A day for listening…
in the pine trees
the blowing wind
~
Brume matinal
ma vie semble comme un rêve
qui n’a jamais été
~
Tous les mondes possibles
fondus
dans notre baiser
~
All the possible worlds
melted
in our kiss
~
Beyond the grave
all I’ll take with me
is a ribbon of her scent
~
Rien pour t’offrir
sauf mon cœur
au bout de la nuit
~
I looked into the darkness
and I saw your face…
moon in the sky
Relished slowly
with yearning lips
the wine I poured
into the hollows
of her collarbones
~
Today the wind
comes to tell me
of her deep longing,
the woman whose breath
I feel in my bones.
Love is the shortest distance between two hearts.
~
Dark brown
her eyes take me back
to the forest
I went into
and never came back –
~
Floating on the night air
the smell of jasmine
and orange blossoms
reminds me of her hair,
the way the light glides
along its waving curls,
the way, when I touched it,
I felt a lock open
in the region of my heart.
~
All the kisses
that clang to her skin
flowered in the moonlight
as I undressed her,
silently, slowly,
my gray beard
into her softness pressing
line after line
of poetry.
~
Touching her is a process; its name is poetry.
~
Each year runs
a little faster
since the day I saw
my first white hair
Each year runs
to find my heart
a little quieter
as autumn comes
~
For the poems to come
I close my eyes and imagine
her face
~
Unlabeled
this pulse tying
my heart and hers
Five years
after her death
my sister’s birthday
comes laden
with spring rain
Noir de nuit
dans la flamme j’entends
le murmure de mes pensées
~
Whenever I smell her skin
on my face I feel
the spray of summer waves
~
In her eyes I see
the spinning core
of the galaxy
~
Blancheur d’hiver…
son corps dans mon lit
un cerisier en fleurs
~
Un tableau de Vincent
dans son corps nu tourne
la nuit étoilée
Rooted in Love 