September 15, 2019


Alexandre, my trembling wings.

Your dead are in the fields.

Our fight was stretched on the forest.

A wealth of shadow lies beneath the woodland hills.

An earth that is not mine

An earth that is not mine.


A sky became a wave,

and suddenly the breeze -

azure floating on the hills.


Our music was not of a god or spirit, not of that colour of the sea.


My falafel from the seas and palm-trees.

This magic, the stars have been held for.

Mysterious prophets and priests return to temptation.

Sleepy and strong, lay the falafel.