You hide the world from me
Like a wolf dying on a bed of budding flowers
You cannot lie to this degree
Like the Christmas of a child, piles of inexhaustible pleasures
Light-years from you
Like getting water in your eyes
I have been loved
How lovely a child’s tempest!
What she has done with me alone, I have done with a thousand
Time went by in all directions at once
As if, opening a door, you'd find your double awaiting you
The door of paradise has been opened for you, you can’t but believe in it
Like breaking into a shop of toys
Like some inconceivable return
As if by fire that first purity
It means undertaking too far away a trip
Last hyphen, last indulgence
The modest cover of the truth
We should have left in time
You, frigid image
It was enough to stop, to step down…
The fair days will return
I lift the veil
The purest actuality in the world
The words have left the flesh, to reunite them
“Mon petit chéri” drifts in the void, so many imperfect models have covered the original
Neither angel nor ogre, but as ill fortune will have it...
You cannot get over the fact that it should come to an end
At last one could bathe twice in Heraclitus's river
Like a ride on a merry-go-round: what utter bliss
No more distance
Suddenly, the beckoning of the bright lights, the sharp contrasts
The table is set, the meal is served!
To yield to temptation is still to learn
A still surface, smiling
An image feast!
The same always, and always different
To sneak past time's watchful gaze, quietly steal away
You are the gingercake alphabet hiding the words
A finger quickly dipped into hot water
A bit more upstream, a bit more downstream… there.
An absolutely honest, pure, and objective desire to know
A ribbon briefly waved from a passing star
Why doesn’t the wreckage of happiness matter more?
The proudness to have dared, to have chosen the best part
An inexhaustible well of gratitude
Everything for a kiss, and life thrown in