knocks at my thought
from the thought of the ocean
a paddle
lost by a boat in a memory wave
like a submerged rock surrounded by walls
where from a whimper departs
silences go out to greet him in the evening
witnesses being only the mornings
lost through ports
no one hears his grief
tuck to his chest like a poniard
en dérive non pas d'objet en objet
mais de couleur en couleur
de noir en blanc de noir en blanc
de noir en noir en noir
matins
un à un
en dérive
non pas d'objet en objet
mais de dérive en dérive
mesurant l'entre-temps
quand la lumière devient
La lumiere et ses ombres, Ed. Jacques Bremond, France, 2006
enroulement du continu
elle aspire immobile
tournant sur elle-même
angles aveuglés
rotation perpétuelle
arrachement à soi
spire après spire
les syncopes ne s'opposent plus au continu
tourbillon respire
dans son mouvement
ondulant
boucle infinie
voyelle inaccomplie
autour de l'axe du vertige renversé
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
Like water
on a thousand-petalled flower
untouched by sin, above de mud
its head held high
pure and undefiled in the sun
its mist whole world illuminates
with golden blue
right within your heart
the egg of gold
like a brilliant
rising from the bosom of the water
Daughter of the Ocean of Milk
fearless enough to wrest
the secrets of Life and Death
Comentarii aleatorii