Pourquoi m'extrais-tu de mon petit lit cendreux? De l'armoire months of my life? My tarnished mirrors? My pale moon? My lonely evenings? My clothes smell of mothballs? In my quiet boredom? ... Where are you taking me? how far will spread your fire in my arid plains? How many islands forgotten your deluge engulf? .. Could it be so? .. Two waves carry me to you, I broke two ribs. You drink me. You make me drown. You light my candles by using your emphasis. You make me see thirty-six candles then you inflames me. And you leave me on my way to you, sounds spot where the road paved by bitter splits the enchanted path of ecstasy.
And I run and I keep run. I am pain along my nights ... Approach a bit, will you? Come here then. Come closer and disappear a good time. You approach a little and disappear as well. Come on. Come. Not tarry ... I beg you ... Nothing is more painful to me that the inertia ... And I find myself cherishing the distance that separates me from you, when I languish. I like to hug this ray that illuminates the glittering ardor of the bee and the rose that flows. I begin to aspire to a world where the roads would be shorter and when travel would be longer. And I think I love you and I can not describe my hunger. And I think I love you .. It is cursed, that feeling ... I
afraid for this writhing heart and I'm afraid of falling when I touch you desire. You who created the dreams and killed while only did they take shape .. hardly have I heard of your name .. And I rub my wounds with the tip of your silence and the storm underneath. And my dying words to be born in the hollow of your palms, the term ... While scratching my on my way to you .. On my way to the sea through the air, scratching my wing of a butterfly ...
Oh if only I did not love you point ...
