When dreaming of your image,
Beneath the somber moon, the adolescent
Of those days found both
Desert and thirst in your breast.

Remote fire of icy splendor,
Flame where agony pales,
Among glacial, enemy clouds
I imagined you and it was
Like when one dreams of death while living.
Everything being, however, so intimate.
Just a room,
Just the brush of a wing or a love that crossed nights,
With languid, unhurried flight,
With just the noise, the gliding
Of the rain on sleeping, adored shoulders.

Yes, tell me where you came from, dream or phantom,
Until my own sweet, tenacious, close shadow.
So you begin to appear now,
Silent,
As in remembrance
The loved body advances
And when awakening, on the edge of the bed,
Between oblivion and years,
When half-opening the eyes to be dazzled,
Today is only
The melancholy grace that flees,
Invisible beauty of former times.

There only exists one day, a single day,
There exists just one inextinguishable day,
A slow, endless drill gnawing shadows:
I am not that one nor the other,
Nor was I yesterday nor am I now like I dreamt.

What a disturbing memory to rediscover you in,
To adore again your voracity,
To run again a hand through your messy hair,
Arm that encircles a waist in silent darkness.
To be once again yourself,
Briny answer almost without words,
Surging up from the night
With sad sounds, rocks, laments pulled from the sea.

Only you, lunar and solar fugitive star,
Contemplates man lose his battle.
But only you, secret lover,
Can compensate his defeat with your delirium.
Look at him wandering on the earth through its shadows:
Cross it with the sword of your lighting,
Guide him to the nocturnal season,
Alienate him with your love and your disdain.
And then, in your eternal nakedness,
Abandon your body to me
And make me feel your warm lips on my kiss,
So that another time, awake among men,
I remember you.