Like the kindest look of a child
(All the more wonderful since he’s not yours),
So generous could my heart be,
So could it sing to your tapping.

The higher you are, the lower I fall.
The more transparent your wing,
The darker the night’s chill,
The further the coast,
The heavier the paddle.

When the smile of the angel saddens,
Satan’s laughter surely gets louder.
Was it the moon who stole you from me?
Well, melancholy will touch her as well.

She will meet your sunrise with her palms folded.
Me, I’ll just pray at the sunset,
And the words, like night butterflies,
Will jump off my soul,
And fly to your ghostly light.

Leaving, you slip over me,
Setting down as a veil on my skin.
It dissolves all alone in darkness
Just to return at the dawn.

I know I’m in your thoughts and in your memory.
I see its rays wander among shadows,
Searching in forests’ myths and in lowlands’ legends
For traces of my blood.
“Watching” me.

Oh my beasts … Oh the hunters …
What’s in my body to you? What’s in the face?
Not at your seas does my lighthouse beam
The light in the eyes of the fugitive.

You were the arrow through my heart into my brain…
And… having learned the taste of your winter,
I’m neither afraid of your farewells, nor of your angers,
But only of that deceitful word…