My Light, Poem in Two PartsI surmised your presenceIn a prison of glassAs if crisscrossing a drivewayOn a pedestalI thought I saw youTrembling and yet so farPinned onto the skySparkled over the nightI dreamt I fell on meYour crazy yellow danceRipping wax apartShaking the shadowsSo, I closed my eyesOpened wide my handsMy arms to welcomeYour warmthMy Light--My eyeBurnsThe valleys of light's endless watersWith material sadness-stained raysNo oneHears no more the colours of caressesDying in ideas and declaiming in riversMy mourningOriginal French:J'ai cru te devinerDans une prison de verreComme sur un piédestalQuadrillant une alléeJ'ai cru t'apercevoirTremblante et si lointaineAttachée dans le cielSaupoudrée dans la nuitJ'ai cru sentir sur moiTa danse jaune et folleQui déchirait la cireEn agitant les ombresAlors j'ai fermé les yeuxJ'ai ouvert grand les paumesLes bras pour recevoirTa chaleurMa lumière.--Mon oeilBrûleL'eau infinie des vallées de lumièreE
Sisyphus' lamentWhen you understand me, you'll understand how repetition is painful, as a symbol of an endlessly recurring time.Everything must flow, otherwise I don't live!Why anger? In order to let a fragile wall hang between desperation and I. When I don't have enough strength to stand up anymore, I won't have any strengths anymore. Then even this rempart will be destroyed by the industrious goings-on of human incoherence. I know I am still human because I am still affected. When I don't feel anything anymore, when I'm calm, when they have brought me down, when I am kneeling, docile, mute, there won't be very much of me left already. Nor anything valuable in this world. Anger, anger is a sign, a sign of life... but of fall.Failure calls for failure. Sadness, for sadness. Mine are hard to process -- others' can't be hidden. Time, stop! may the universe clot, cold, fleshless, deaf and blind! This, is being one -- this, is remaining and not becoming anymore ; contemplating and not planning anymore,
ElegyEvery melody tells of a story:This one is nostalgy of golden hairAnd lavender scented lukewarm dreams.Hesitating elegy of a time that's no moreMurmurs from an epoch henceforth asleep,As a child resting protected from worry:Present, elsewhere, peaceful.
Yet we have to liveNomads in the desertKnow no exile.Sun and storms and the infinite dunesDevour, digest, infiltrate.Sand in the eyes, in the heart, in the mouthIn the lungs, fire.Yet we have to live.
MysteriesThe stars of waned flowers restStreaming down the long hair flowDrawing there ocean reflections, virtuosoMysteries
The country I live inI am not seatedIn a forward-facing seat.My native land gains altitude,I disappear in the abyssal forestsOf the country I live in.
Never dare forgetEven if you take another pillowTo rest your headNever dare forgetThe memory of moonlightFalling on this sleeve wet by our tears