when by chance I come upon
the towers of Notre-Dame
unlike Tristan Derème
who

coming upon the Towers of Saint-Sulpice
pissed
against them
I mediate

a meditation quasi
modal in nature,
esméraldine almost, hugoesque you might say,
sitting in the public garden

behind
the reverend clouds turn away
the pigeons gargoyle the japanese tourists photodigitize themselves
in front of it

closed by gates the more-or-less-abandoned-garden
where three little black cats drink
the good white milk of Catholic
France

they belong to his Grace
(lustiger)
later they will climb among your weather vanes
o masterpiece of gothic art!

Tanslated by Claire Nashar