Anagramméana, poëme en huit chants

Inside a cramped, dust‑lined room, a solitary figure leans over a battered table scattered with ink, a mason’s trowel and a hammer. The walls are plastered with riddles—anagrams, charades, rebuses—hinting at a game of language as much as a work of poetry. From this modest workshop emerges a poem that treats each line as a puzzle, inviting the listener to untangle meaning while savoring rhythm.

Divided into eight short chants, the piece moves like a verbal kaleidoscope; words are rearranged, rhymes twist, and the same verses can be heard in reverse or from any point without losing their charm. The narrator’s witty preface explains the craft, celebrating the joy of a laugh‑induced mind and the humble mason who dared to fuse craft and verse. As the verses unfold, the listener is treated to a playful meditation on language, wit, and the simple pleasure of turning letters into music.