Here I am
in the alley of olive trees
to maraud the honeysuckle
secretly in love
frog with green frill.   
 
The Bard Reveals
as warm blood from receptacles
of the tumultuous course
of this nostalgia
imprint of tenderness.      
 
And distress   
at the lantern fallen at sea
I offer the buoy
of the poem that I love
stone to lay my head.      
 
I believe in the cries of the hemicycle
with a blue-pastel ritual
the song of the sailors of Newfoundland
going down the hatch
arms laden with dried cod.      
 
much lower
I thought I saw
on the terracotta bowl
death and life
devouring each other.      
 
As for my children
that time distributes
in peace
to the clouds without duplicity
I tore up contract and promise.      
 
The wind will take me away
in melancholy
hand over mouth
waiting for the shadow of the stele
be reflected in the breath of the Beast.      
 
The Royal Ahan of the Soldiers of Disdain
reflected in fallow
the carnal shoulder of the rebel
end of the century talk
to the wind given from the grasses.      
 
my sweet nature
with eternal leaves
come back in the evening
you went so close to me
that the cart moved.      
 
Exploring the mist
with full shapes
my soul would rise
on the front of the summer pastures
as Single Way.      
 
 
874