The Substance...

In the city where I’ve got nothing to do
I carry my life my chimera
My thirsts that nothing quenches
I’m just a man piece of blade

I go, I come and then I hope
A heaven in this hell
A bit of birds a bit of sky
Another skin or even wings
Between metal and vegetal
Being human or animal

I am nothing and everything
I love night water and mud
I like going at the bottom of puddles
The rain that comes and skies that crack

Of what texture is your flesh
The air the sky and universe
In your stomach what vagueness

I look for words and ideas of glass
In the concave of millenary trees
In books and dictionaries
There where I go where I lost myself
On the bottom of sky at the end of the land
Whatever the place or the reverse is

Of what texture is your flesh
The rain the tree and universe
In your stomach what vagueness

I seek for a meaning in this life
A reason an insanity
In this world of blades of scrap
That rusts me rusts my guts
I reinvent the universe
Hope love and light

Of what texture is your flesh

In the glassed-cities upside down
Dream the rusted robots dream

Of what texture is your flesh

Today is an impair day
A day without bread day ordinary
Like those words those verses

Of what texture is your flesh
Of what texture is your…
The water the skin the land

Of what texture is your flesh
Life death and universe
In your stomach what vagueness

Who am I and who programmed me
I’m not afraid to be wet
But in the silence stones
In the soft river’s speech
My heart’s mechanic
Beats slowly in the inside

In the city where I’ve got nothing to do
I’m just a man a dust particle
I dream I’ve got the words
The substance…

© Translated from the French by Pauline SALAFIA