Me prennent par la main    
Les Grands Hommes les Grandes Femmes    
A la porte des temples    
Quand le jour consumé    
Passe la clé aux initiés.        
 
A weary sun rubs the horizon
In its focus
This gift of feather
Than the Simorgh in vertical flight
Place under the tidal wing.        
 
The foreshore with black spots
Breathe softly waiting for the flow
Crossed by vibrant words
Under the rising breath
Of the coming night.        
 
In her queen womb
Running away from the pains of the day
The Woman puts down the dilapidated box
In a sea puddle
At the mercy of the kelp sucker.        
 
On the mirror of flush Posidonia
Birds in fast wings
Enchant with their spun cries
The vastness of the place
Silver contrast of the sky and the facing sea.        
 
Me fouillent le fond des poches    
Les enfants au passage du Groix    
Pour que perles accumulées    
Projeter les galets du haut des dunes d'avenir    
Vers nos maîtres ascensionnés.      
 
 
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