The Belgian poet Robert Goffin which celebrated the 1998 centennial of the birth, crossed the twentieth century. It marked his time with his immense talent, his outstanding personality and his love of jazz. Flyer, a friend of celebrities from Europe and America, inveterate hedonist, this brilliant lawyer has lived outside the Belgian literary standards, while ... however, part of the Academy.
Robert Goffin, Chronicles overseas flesh, 1975, Guy Chambelland
At eighty years, a lifetime of memories and jazz poems.
Tribute to beer : "Pale Ale in the papal bull which Louis Armstrong said she was the soul of jazz"
The last round: "All the jazz tunes dedicated to juicy peaches from Georgia / are ground-ragtime-swing up in the ghetto [...] Diana Ross goes radioactive ray eye semaphore [...] The champions of jazz dance and rejoice proudly "
Lightning endless :" Where I found the beautiful black singer Billie Holiday [...] Every night love his intensity accelerates the churning jazz
musical women (Marc Danval) : "Then Sacha Distel had returned the gesture by Ray Ventura / Dinah Shore Before couronnât do this orgy of stars / But all that I clung unexpected that jazz / notes and sounds that I looked in his mid floor F sharp [...] When the light a foxtrot syncopated offered their maze / Of flesh available under the cloak of an aggressive black jazz / The trumpet of Briggs to the lips of cooked shrimp was cutting the rate [...] And I cling to the refrain that quivering reincarnated Billie [...] And in my top amalgam psalms Billie / Me still affecting their lasers the edge of perdition sneaky [...] In a mixture that jazz had welded despite the Jim Crow-[...] Already battered Billie Holiday rhythm and drug / Returned to greediness of eternity, leaving the world / that his music tragic cause fever Voodoo "
Ostend :" But it was when jazz invests Ostend I ransomed / Nights splashed femmes fatales of neon signs and alcohol [...] I still remember the Mitchell's Jazz Kings in the bleachers Helder [...] In the following ramp Billy Smith crushed the dogs Wabash blues / While a smooth slide trombone blows to the heart of beautiful [...] I still remember Jimmy Dorsey and George Bruns dialogue / runoff swing-in percussive improvisations / In front of the orchestra of Ted Lewis wearing a stovepipe [...] I lectured in the large room overflowing with bare shoulders / While the three women twined reed blows sax-appeal [...] When June Cole sported a full moon its souzaphone "
The Field of the Cloth of Gold : "Every night jazz floated over the desire to lead [...] Billie Holiday is welded to my body between trips marijuana"
Mass pepper : "Finally it was dedicating Toxins from jazz to the mythology of the dollar / The mayor of the city negro smiled with all his teeth, neon / black and white choirs howled their lamentations swing [...] How the music born from the depths of his negroes in the dives / On kingdom sex girls with a knife and pimps Basin Street / Was she in a few decades, joined the inattingible (sic) clan money / also closed the court of Louis XIV but with Jelly Roll for Lully [...] That all was not lost for poets who starve / Since the bishops are involved in jazz and celebrate Masses syncopated "
Boris Vian :" Then we got into the tiny cellar with Delaunay / Listen to the rhythm of jurisprudence Dizzie Gillespie / When he heard that I had written several books on jazz / And I had lived for months in New Orleans / It took care of myself and more we left Welded [...] We rowed basking in the anthracite-evoke Billie and Lena Horne [...] While Luter hung without pity the baton of his clarinet / Expressing peaks of Voodoo in a frenzy of slip / Where Mogwli hiccuping between tuba and drum Buridan [...] Boris smiled at the angels in 1946 and played the St. Louis Blues [...] He lived die imperceptibly swing and insomnia [...] Later, under the banner of hands appeared Chittison Jazz 47 [...] Here we are with Roy Eldridge with the perfume of the islands Rhumerie / Don Byas tenor of divine right boning his saxophone [...] I looked pale in locks panting jazz [...] When Lil Armstrong-heiress of Engineering played old tunes / Between me and Boris there were three hundred kilometers of wavelength "
December 29, 1926:" Where I communed with the pulse of the tom-tom negro of New Orleans / I was typing on my plunger while the turns blues haulers [... ] The Georgians Copenhagen shear or Sweet Sixteen to the Alhambra [...] I spent every day at snakes and ladders of life / That with the flick of betroth jazz metaphors of color "
Capital jazz : "Here was the platform where the musician Bob Lyons Bolden cira my shoes [...] Where Big Eye Louis Nelson proved to me that jazz was born in 1900 [...] Farewell Orphanage where Louis Armstrong shearing his mouth copper [...] And all prehistoric ruins in search of my past dejazz [...] This is where jazz was born on the side of the bar by Tom Anderson [...] A little later they opened a museum of jazz that is never empty [...] As thirty years ago and love jazz ferment in the shade [...] Finally it prepares a monumental memorial to King of Jazz Satchmo / Since this morning there is a Belgian Franc in the silt of the Mississippi.
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