sábado, 25 de agosto de 2012


I wanted only the briefest night with you, so your silent stepmother would grow old in the background unable to marshal her powers.

My dream was to be beside you, a harmonious fugitive that few ever noticed, as we chanced along this sad but angelic route. Nothing would dare slow us down.

The daylight suddenly closes in. Losing all the dead I loved so much, I am cas...
ting off that dog rose, the last living thing left, a distracted summer.

I’m emptied out, yet full. Finnish me, you melancholy beauty, your eyelids fluttering in drunken rapture. Every wound from you awakens the phoenixes whose eyes appear in my window. Something sings and sighs its satisfaction at being complete out there inside the wall’s gold.

This wind that is driving my yoke along.

René Char

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