La fontaine, l’oeil de Dieu,
Un canal où se cachent des photons humides.
J’aime cette fontaine,
Un OVNI avec des bras liquides
Qui vole en éclats
Et , miraculeusement, il renaît
Près de nous, des êtres cosmiques
Jetés dans l’herbe !
Je t’attends chaque soir et dis la bonne aventure
En murmure de la fontaine ;
En froufrou des nuages !
J’ai beaucoup de tendresse pour toi !
and when I wish it to be true
one more time
just this once
the universe listens
and sends down its moons
wrapped up in sonatas
these fingers searching and searching
will they find me?
deep down
where the ropes end
where the light is thin
like a last breath
like a string
stretched beyond death
in a perfect tune
me,
this piece of wood
you're sweet but not perfect
or maybe perfectly sweet
although being perfect
is never entirely sweet
thus you are not perfect
but surely sweet
fooling me’nto believing
you're sweetingly perfect
while perfecting the art
of never being sweet
dim, turbid, huge waves, sometimes
troubled silt, quicksand
by sky water clouds
and you can not see
but the early mornings
you know, there has been a window you
crouched on the ledge because thus you could run
amongst the sands of darkness onto the path to stars,
a way often gilded by moon
and even when it was raining, was windy, or storm
barrier was not actually there
thus you could watch above,
until the sun scattered crystals
and the wall appeared in all his greatness
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