In the narrow silence
There is travel
This art of suffering in the present
With an internal and youthful ardor
The passing cohort.      
 
And then the game comes   
Celui du regard oblique   
Frémissant d'horreur   
Devant la haine   
Ne parvenant pas à dompter l'événementiel.      
 
So the child kneels
The beautiful child of light
In front of the stone lichen
To beg sword and slingshot
Brinquebalantes at the sides of the cartage.      
 
all is one
we are the crowd
And the crack can't but
To keep in its alcove
The dance of the naked bodies.      
 
 
1023