the world is pouring into you
a waterfall
a rush
a once in a lifetime
you drink your usual earl grey
milk, no sugar
under a pile of clouds
you feed your pigeons in squares
and think:
am I too old for this
what shall I wear tonight?
your streets are blushing with joy
like the cheeks of a woman in love
I too am in your blood,
a cocktail of sounds,
I hold a little boy’s hand
and in his eyes,
two blue wide screens,
you slowly open up your robes
and wave
Se taisant -
silence panique
s'accrochant aux mots prononcés.
Aucune trace de son; visage figé; dans l'air, nul
écho de voyelle, nulle syllabe ne s'attarde.
Les mots - les a-t-il prononcés -
Autour de sa bouche se devine une ligne blanche
mince, qui s'accentue de plus en plus, qui semble
se fermer comme un cercle - oppressant.
Et pourtant il disait quelque chose.
I think two are enough
for a single pain
out there it is always dark
inside we keep the silence
nothing in center
nothing more than red islands
me without me
you without you
living in ironic waves
from the beginning to the end
of death
so just let me write
on a tear of angel
a neverending light
I was wondering if the scarf made last year
feels warm and soft to your neck
holding above the chin I have bitten and kissed
or
if the Victorian blanket I knitted
covers well your knees
the ones I caressed when they were sore and bruised and bleeding
or
if you’re still listening to
the carol I sang in a lower key
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