My hand is grazed by thin scattered bits of a flask
As my skin is kissed by the cursed flow of the ether
The red line of the sliced vein melts with the ember
Of the cruel poison if you put down your mask.

The perfume descends down my warm palms
Engraving on it its lethal bite,
My mind reaches a new height
As my soul screams in spams.

Collapsing in a gasp of air, in a long gauzy gown
Creased like a shroud to welcome a body at auction sold
Like a flower-shaped corolla poured out against some gold.

At the temple of agony, convulsing painfully
In the sacred desire of her mortal folly
Corrupted creature, ***** in her Dream
And of her life stops the stream.

Freshman, College of Humanities. Joffre, Montpellier. Translated on May, 9, 2014.

Aux Nuits de Pékin,







Pékin ! Il est déjà trop ****, le nom est prononcé
Je suis emportée dans tes tourbillons colorés
J’ai vu des saphirs, des jades de glaise
Mais ai fuis, hélas ! A mon coeur ce malaise !

Comme une passive résilience
Sans reste là- Et reste le silence…





To Beijing’s nights,

Gates to Oblivion


Beijing - Already too late - it is said,
I am whirled up into your luminous flows,
I have seen sapphires, jades of clay,
I fled alas! Now my heart is torn!

It was like a passive resilience,
Apart from me, the rest is silence…

May 11 2012
Montpellier, France

To the victims during the Boston Marathon, April 15, 2013,

Children of Boston
Children of Euston
Children of Kingston

Boys of Mesa
Boys of Tuy Hoa
Boys of Kalba

Teenagers of Kyoto
Teenagers of Toronto
Teenagers of Lesotho

Wives of Berlin
Wives of Kremlin
Wives of Yulin

Humans of the world
Let us spare one word

Let us pray,
From Larissa
To South Kensington
From Tokay
To Grafton

Humans of the world
Let us spare one word

For the children of Boston.

April 15, 2013
Montpellier, France

Apparently, it was like an apparition
            He eyed me, ***** in his wilderness
        Heaving me to the haven of his handsomeness
            Him, my male, my marvelous malediction

His Eye seeing my I inside the aperture
    Of his “camera’’, when our room was nature
        But plunged in the ocean of his sea, see
              Like two heroes wrestling on the coastline
     We rose naked, his fingertips skimmed my spine
Between skies and waters, with our furious epitome

       We made love to the waves, alike Eteocles
       The current circling our chromatic compositions
             Our tongues watery, our limbs exhausted
  In this hopeless happiness, we stroke our passions
On the rough wood of Pan’s harp, oh Polynices!
     Cursed by a kiss, blessed by a blow and exulted    
By the smooth summits of our souls and bodies    
Seduced by the sweetest sin, singing our silent rhapsodies


      My name is Miguel, I am not Michael the archangel
         But he certainly was. In the warmth of
the wave lays my angel.


November 13, 2014
Inspired by the movie by Javier Fuentes-León, ‘’Undertow’’ or Contracorriente (2009)

Are they all going to slay us in their hateful blood?
Are we all going to bend a knee to their threat?
I hear that the borders of my beloved country
Are being closed to avoid more of this lethal salvo
Dearly beloved Liberty! Scorn faces Man and Man is unstoppable!
Should it be one’s duty, should we pass a law that forces people to love the other?

Tonight, in November 2015, my thoughts go to those
Who will dare fighting back under the lethal threats of these down-and-outs
Tonight, in November 2015, my thoughts go to those
Who, tired out, cry out with their eyes the tears of farewell…


Lyon, 0:30 am, November 14, 2015- translation

Will I forget your image
Distancing the presage
Like my body from yours
Is everything holding us
Back away from each other

On Time’s ocean
Through thick and thin
Tempest of love
Yes, I said “forever’’
About time

Don’t tell me I beg you
You love me, my happiness
I know you want me
Oh inspired, my distress
Don’t tell me: “Until?’’
I loved you, I fear
But you’re far away, my dear
I’m straight telling you
And until when?

To the French couple whose lives were claimed on August 4, 2015 by the desert on the Alkali Trail, White Sands National Monument, New Mexico,

Of this flown away couple
Whose existence was stolen
In the winds of a dry desert
Remember, arid earth
Their last journey
Their tired faces
Trudging, panting
Walking, they kept walking
They were your children
France, they were parenting
And in the landscape
Their image reunited
With the hills far away

With those who passed away
In the winds of a dry desert
In the New Mexico
Of an arid America

They keep on walking
Their remote memory
On this long, long path
Looking for some glory
A futureless glory…

August 12, 2015
Lyon, France