Qui aimes-tu le mieux, homme énigmatique, dis ?
Ton père, ta mère, ta soeur ou ton frère ?
- Je n'ai ni père, ni mère, ni soeur, ni frère.
- Tes amis ?
- Vous vous servez là d'une parole dont le sens m'est
resté jusqu'à ce jour inconnu.
- Ta patrie ?
- J'ignore sous quelle latitude elle est située.
- La beauté ?
- Je l'aimerais volontiers, déesse et immortelle.
- L'or ?
- Je le hais comme vous haïssez Dieu.
- Eh ! qu'aimes-tu donc, extraordinaire étranger ?
- J'aime les nuages... les nuages qui passent... là-bas...
là-bas... les merveilleux nuages !

I ask the angels
Why it is that I am awake
But yet solely live in slumbers.

As they stroke the summit of the trees,
My fingers find their breath.

And rolling over the landscape of my neck,
Is a drop,
Springs a new source.

There settles a long awaited dew,
In the grass beneath my hands.

And your eyes catch the colors of the morning.

In these dark days
I carry you with me like a coat.
You protect me from rain
        look back from behind the glass.
    pull me out of the water and
into your boat.

In the hour of evening,
     the hour of mist,
I wait in the vacuum
as you sneak into my breath.
You silence all the light of the room
and I stare,
blind and hollow,
into the darkness.

You are the source
              the last remaining sunbeam
But you depart, slip away
leave me behind, leave me behind
And I am still sightless
as I wait, alone in the dark.

In the hour of evening,
     the hour of mist.

Because you long
to a flame
just out of reach.