The sun was crying like a wounded bird
Love is a reckless juggler
I tried to catch the balls he threw in the air without dropping them.
But Time took his revenge. He made your face fade away

My eyes wandered on the boulevard. I looked for you
The rain was falling on the stoop. I danced a waltz with the night.
The rain invited itself into my jerky breaths.
My cleavage reflected the sun’s agonized sighs.

And in this cabaret’s ill-famed street of Templars
I ordered a vodka with caramel
Traveler your cognac tastes bitter on my lips
And a xylophone sucks the silence of the night

My makeup dried when the hours began to turn
Like planes driven mad by speed
Was your gaze on my eyelids a mirage then?
I was afraid that the day would reopen its glittering curtains

Light is a monster for those who love each other in silence
The windows of this hotel shiver with cold
A silhouette – or is it the reflection of the clouds on the curtain?
I clutched my paper cutter. Blood beaded on my hand

The sidewalk scented my body with a rancid cologne
I ran down the stairs to the nearest station
And in a monologue of reinforced concrete
The buildings greeted my departure on the open platform

The ceiling of the train that takes me home swells
Like a phoenix that took an arrow – the hurricane shakes the bar
This life is a novel but are we its heroes?
The routine assaults our windows with its pearly rain

I am a vagabond on the path of existence
But the fuselage of days is that of a military plane,
With its impatient will to pierce the April clouds ;
And tears the screen of smoke; the sheet of cloud stretched between the mountains

My love this poem has no epilogue, my words are only two train tickets
At each step, the wagons fly away to the scaffold of the night hours
I scribbled on the train table, I’ll write a masterpiece tomorrow
This train has no crew other than words reddened with the ink of my eyes