This know-how between us   
 this word 
 this shadow by our differences   
 hanging on the thorns of wild rosehips   
 this link that unites us   
 the breath that takes us   
 swirling spiral   
 to this humble transitional room.   
   
 Ensemble,   
 in the dust of oblivion   
 autumn mists   
 wait for him to come   
 in confirmation of our fatuity   
 settle his last business   
 then retreat alone   
 on the borders of the all-rounder.    
   
 There are nights such   
 that my blood   
 his blood   
 calls me from the bottom of the crypts   
 to the failure to have been   
 le long des mains courantes sociétales   
 intact under the storm
 the cap screwed on the head.    

    
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