Tumbling off hills and mountains,
cutting through fields and forests,
all rivers are extensions of her hair,
nocturnal waters flowing, flowing,
Aube ; le poète, cœur débordant, sème la joie du jour.
Under every stone,
with every sighing leaf
and murmuring stream
the forest dreams her,
a silence painted
on the face of the sky.
I lost my way
and now the riverbed is dry,
filled with rattling bones
and pebbles lamenting the memory
of once being submerged
in the water that flowed
from her abundant heart.
I know her the way childhood’s landscapes forever burn in the memory, bursting with infinite longing, a vague and endless search for the warmth of home.
Come to me,
spill your all into my verdant heart,
give me your blood and honey,
your thorns and petals,
the gray, the white, the dark,
and all the mystic colours
of your shivering breath and body,
flow into me the way the earth’s rivers
seek to merge with the eternal oceans,
journey endlessly, home…
He held her into him,
a boundless shore swaying
against his infinite shore.