The Passage

Fr En Gr

My fingers crumple leaves
And disperse them.
They trace
Discordant, monotonous words,
Ochreous, boring words
Hard,
Autumn leaves
The North Wind rises
Blows and makes you breathless
It dislodges you and you fly away.
Autumn leaf,
My hand retains you
And it panics
Time carries you away
It is Prison.
Air is on time
Which brings me sorrow.
Ether calls you
My heart is crushed
Vainly, my hand moves
Brightness pulls you, takes you away
My eyes are riveted
They are attached
But the ray fixes you
And it attracts you
My steps are in your way
But the ground grabs me
The sun enflames you, it slashes you
It checks and disperses you
And the
White Screen inhales you
The Mass Of Clouds envies you,
It removes you.

I magine
The Way.
Prisoner, dazzled by doubt In its splendour, in utter defeat,
Time strains us.
My hands are full of words
And I have a pen.
But the sky is
Autumn
Flat, grey, monotonous.
I ignore my memories
And my hand withholds them.
Odours, an echo...
In my memory there is laughter
And verbs to express it
But the day is
Winter.
In vain, my hands shake.
The sky removes you and it stretches
My tears, they dry out.
My dream pursues me,
Pencils, to write it
If Spring returns.
I saw the landing And on the embankment, you waiting.
I dreamt of
Your
Passage.
It is from every age.
But in the doubt
I lost The Way.
I still have
Leaves
And words to say it
I still have words
And
Leaves, to write.
I also have paint-brushes,
White for the sun
Gold and then honey
To draw your sky.

I found The Way.
There is no doubt,
To leave on a trip
To find the passage
There is
The Boat
That leads to
The River.
I will wait for
Spring
To tame Time.
To believe in your sky
I kept the gold and the honey.
I still have leaves
And words to say it
I dream of The City,

Of gold, engraved with diamonds,
Where you found shelter.
I can imagine it
I still have words
And leaves to write it
I still have dreams.
I stowed them,
To join this other dream
I would have to die,
To go on a trip
To find The Passage.
There is the Boat
That leads to the
River
I have found the
Way.
There is no doubt
I will wait to be wise
To reach a very old age
In order to see this shore
And find
The Passage.

I want to cut
Discordant and monotonous words

And autumn leaves amaranthine, paling
I will go to
The River
To see
The Boat again.
I want to cut some sounds,
Moving, volatile.
I want to cut some features,
Resonant, irascible.
I want to cut some gold,
Fawn,
Blond,
Blazing,
Some myrrh, some incense
Eternal, evanescent.
My fingers crumple leaves
And disperse them.
They trace
Discordant and monotonous words,
Ochreous, boring words
Hard autumn leaves.

CBMarcopoulo 02/2006