Entre Between the Fox and the Wolf of Marketing
An answer to your « clever trick »
Dear Master Fox, with your thousand and one detours,
Your overly flattering praise lacks true substance,
They have, I fear, the luster of stolen cheese,
Sparkling at first glance, but quickly stale.
Your five Goodreads, alas, so neatly aligned,
Smell of a model and a duplicated text,
The Raven, old perhaps, but not foolish,
Sees beneath the gold of the words, the shadow of a trap ringing false.
Dear Wolf disguised as a shrewd advisor,
Your artifices reek of contrived copy-paste,
This uniform breath, barely disguised,
Has nothing of the free reader, but everything of the falsified.
My book, you say, lacks renown?
Perhaps, no doubt, but not of sincerity,
And twelve hundred euros, premium, to sell a promise,
Above all, echo your desperate quest.
For who else is hungry for my money, if not you?
If not you, then your brother, whose art is well-paid,
But might makes right, so dear to some,
Does not rule in my house, neither tonight nor tomorrow.
Keep your stars to your mirror-like reflections,
I prefer a true reader, even one discreet in the dark,
The perched Crow cherishes what shines without pretense,
And the lamb that I am has no use for complaints.
Thus goes the fable, and let it be remembered:
Every flatterer embellishes, but rarely brings,
And the Arie… Joy, tranquil in its perch,
Prefers to see clearly, rather than to believe too much.
Every flatterer promises the moon and the stars with words,
But only proof gives value to his claims,
The charlatan paints gold on apparent emptiness,
Arié…Joie, wise, awaits the proof and keeps her money.
Guy Pujol says l’ARIÉ…..JOIE