I bought kalaches, 7.62mm rounds
I’m gonna hold up the poetry tonight
Hold up the words and rhymes
And the night smothers me with its maternal advice

I put on a white mask, a black shirt
I’m gonna hold up poetry tonight
I’m going down the boulevard full headlights
The stars are shooting at me

I bought a van on the black market
I’m gonna rob the poetry tonight
And the moon has an anonymous beauty,
My hands are clenched on the neck of the night

I fired three shots at the beauty of the evening
I have pointed at poetry, I am leaving
Paris gave me its light while trembling
And the night cried silver tears