Weekend

Sadness comes to remind me of death.
The world after I am gone
is the same world;
where the children are playing-
in the indifferent garden of eucalyptus trees-
and waiting to grow up and
to go to a dance;
at the midnight’s den.
Oh, where the butterflies will be sprouting-
Oh, where the brave will be weak at the knees-
Then, when the ambivalent sons and daughters
will be gulping down beer together
at the end of a particularly hard time
on the dance floor-
the wily trees will be falling over each other
and giggling, and whispering in vain,
“Will it, will make them immortal?”


Siren Song

Purple trees,
I am in love!

Beyond the woods
There’s an ocean
The sirens with lovely breasts
Singing
The promises, the promises!

Sinbad’s ship
Waiting
Hope that turned into rubies
Dazzling
“Row the savage boats slaves
You’ll be the master of the universe
One day…
Some day…”
I just have made my peace.

Now I will dye my bearskin with flowers
Stare the sky with hopeless eyes
And wait for her
And wait for her

The cave that is so empty
Will echo her giggles
And groans
That fills my heart
That fills my soul
My anchor, my love
I won’t let you go no more

Purple trees, my friends
As ancient from my grand father’s days
Won’t he bless my boy
Who is fluttering like a fin-leaf
In a distant dream
Won’t he wake up his wife
In the middle of the night
To whisper a shriek

Rejoice, immortality!
They will make love again!