It is recommended to climb less in love, it is recommended not to linger
To steal quickly what you need and go, the descent is much too difficult
Some may never see the ground again, they remain slaves in a foreign skin
They walk down the street and you can see their apprentices waking up
And they start sweeping, making breakfast, half-asleep,
unwashed
Almost stooped they begin to clean in the name of love,
they stay there in the nest
Of the thorax until it lightens and they get a crust of bread from their master


you have your own world inside of me
here in the middle of my chest
ravenous
like a sheet of paper
you pull out water

Poetry comes out of the skin like a river comes out of its bed,
suddenly
Each time I am not ready,I don't have a pencil nearby
I am running down the stairs, I don't know where the paper is, I sit down in the armchair
Ouch, I forgot, God how it slips away,I will sleep with the paper under my pillow
I will better sleep on the paper, in the morning my body will scratch,
In the beginning something unreadable, I laugh, incredible, it was right
Poetry does come out of the skin like sweat does, it cleans the body
From the excess of imagination which naturally I can not control
With no drug,
With no kind of boyfriend or Burmese cat

you have inside of me your own world
some parts of the body are distorted
I cut down everything
so you can lie down


I know nothing of love,
I know nothing of sex
I know nothing of poetry,
I know nothing of him
Some strange man found on the street comes along
He comes closer and closer, he draws circles in my palm
He sweats, smokes, I turn the page careless
Then I stand up and I say
get out, g-e-t-o-u-t
He takes his clothes, asks nothing, he looks at the books
Spits on them, what a crazy bitch, the door closes

you have your own world inside of me
I light a cigarette
and I can see inside of me
a filthy town