Quantum of poetry (EN)

My motorcycle in the big bazaar of Istanbul
Saint Sophia shows me the way
Thanks to the shadow of its wonderful roofs
I live in an action movie
The sea of Marmara the noise of the seagulls
A train escapes in the blur of my shots
The man hit me on the hip
I am on the roof of a train
She appears in the August sun
Her shadow devours the purity of summer
I’m in her sights, I cling to the wind’s net
Before falling towards the precipice, the bridge of Adana
Shines in the night of my death

In the chaste smoke of England
Witnessing an explosion in the heart of London
Walking through the network of underground shelters
That date back to the Second World War
I bow my head in the Churchill War Rooms
Bullet shards in my wound
Identify the hitman
I look for a man in the cloudy glow
Of the eyes of the women of my country

Near the mouth of the Yangtze River
East China Sea and
The most populated megalopolis in China
I sleep in a luxury hotel
My gun is smoking in my right hand
I have a headache, the « Pearl of the Orient
Stretches out her arms like a burlesque dancer
The Jintao Tower pierces the clouds
I walk through the business district of Lujiazui
In search of the ghost of truth
The temperature rises, a window washer
Swinging hundreds of meters above the ground

Life is a casino chip
Love the moment I turn the table
When I play roulette
And Macau laughs under the cold sun —
Her eyes are a typhoon of smoke
This woman will get the better of me
The F3 championship
Didn’t happen that year
And the Lisboa hotel
Waits for me to finish my cigar
For a prostitute to approach me
And caresses my temple
Her employer holds me at gunpoint
I disappear in the paper umbrella of Time

I join her on her sailboat
Prisoner on the island of Ha-shima
A ghost city — 1974
Saw its last inhabitants leave
And the sea of Amakusa
Turns my hopes of redemption upside down
The sun is heavy my hollow chest
The iodine invites itself in the perfume of death
But resurrection is my hobby

The hydrogen cyanide did not work
The man I’m chasing is disfigured
In the subway during rush hour,
A fake policeman mingles with the crowd
I open fire in front of the Palace of Westminster
Before running away to a secret destination
The hills of this land in shades of earth and snow
A helicopter shines over my childhood
A stick of dynamite blows up an underground passage
I take a shortcut through the frozen lake
My flashlight lit in front of the chapel
I fire three shots at the smoke screen in the sky

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