I drink the fire, let its
Freezing burn slide down
My throat, feel it sting
My open wounds and
Cloud the pathways to
My heart, feel its ineffable
Rage sizzle against the
Backdrop of unsaid woes and
Unwarranted apologies.

I drink the fire
To sacrifice my maddening
Remembrances, to
Focus on the pain in
My throat instead of the
Smoldering in my chest,
To sterilize the *****
Palms of God that can't
Pacify the raging tides
Above my cheeks, to
Cauterize the raw
Wounds that bleed tears
Onto the blackened
Soil of uncertainty.

I drink the fire
To feel sensation, to
Feel something other
Than the colossal
Void, to feel something
Other than the dull
Pangs of your broken
Words, to feel something
That washes away the
Fragile memories I keep, to
Feel the flames ***** at
My skin and blow black
Smoke out of my eyes,
To feel something other
Than the reluctance of
Dragging weeping Pegasi
Across the ground like
Caged birds begging
To be freed.

I drink the fire,
Hoping that you'll
Remember me while
I forget you, hoping
That you'll touch my
Scalded face and
Bleeding lips,
Hoping that you'll
Twist your hands in a
Knot to restrain your
Uneasy urges,
Hoping that you'll
Remember my countenance
As I turn to dusty ash
That twirls like a
Tornado barreling into
The darkened past.

I drink the fire
To forget why I
Fell so hard, sip it
To forget why I
Tumbled like a fool
Over your shattered
Promises, gulp it
To forget that you're
Forever stuck in my
Heaving breath,
Down it to forget
The unbearable fact
That I still love you,
And that I adore
The pain even more.

Le ciel me parle des mots doux
qui brillent comme des feux rouges
et brûlent dans la poitrine,
piquent sur les champs créés des espères
et des possibilités oubliés.

Peut-être que je suis perdu,
sorti de la maison des conséquences,
rendu malheureux par des phrases simples
et lavé par les eaux de ton étreinte ;
peut-être que je suis oublié,
pas connu par les gens qui se crient
pour l’amour ou la douleur
ou contaminé par le sang bleu
du jour qui reste dans l’air timide.

Peut-être que j’ai peur,
peur de ta regarde, peur d’être  
frappé par tes yeux sympathiques
et éclatants, peur d’être jugé par
le bon dieu de la tristesse,
embrassé par le cœur qui me fait pleurer.

Peut-être que je vis avec
l’incertitude de tes pensés éphémères,
avec l’obligation de ne rien se faire,
avec l’impression de doute sur ta bouche,
avec la sourire malhonnête
qui ne me respecte en plus.

Peut-être que je dois vivre sans toi,
car tu me rends fâché avec ton voix couché,
car tu me montres ton cœur mais
ne me laisse pas de le tenir,
car tu me dis que tu es sincère  
sans avoir assez de témoins,
car tu me fais faim
mais ne me laisse pas manger.

Peut-être que tu n'es pas pour moi ;
Peut-être que tu es vraiment pour toi.  

/

The sky speaks to me sweet words
that shine like red fires
and burn in the chest,
sting on the fields created by hopes
and forgotten possibilities.

Maybe I’m lost,
parted with the house of consequences,
made unhappy by simple phrases
and bathed by the waters of your embrace;
maybe I’m forgotten,
unknown by people who cry
for love or pain
or contaminated by the blue blood
of the day that sits in the timid air.

Maybe I’m afraid,
afraid of your gaze, afraid
of being struck by your lovely
and gleaming eyes, afraid to be judged
by the good God of sadness,
afraid to be kissed by the
heart that makes me weep.

Maybe I’m living with
the uncertainty of your fleeting thoughts,
with the obligation to do nothing,
with the impression of doubt on your mouth,
with the dishonest smile
that doesn’t respect me anymore.

Maybe I have to live without you,
because you enrage me with your cloaked voice,
because you show me your heart but
don’t let me hold it,
because you tell me that you’re sincere
without brandishing enough witnesses,
because you make me hungry
but don’t let me eat.

Maybe you're not for me;
Maybe you’re truly for you.

The wind may blow by,
And the years may cry,
And the sands of time
May trickle past us,
Leave us for dead,
But I'll stay here
With you, at the edge
Of the world,
For you to grab onto
When the flood of God
Razes the land, strikes
The swelling waters and
Washes away the
Ruins of our times.

The words may ebb on,
And the tears may flow,
And the grains of our souls
May tumble across
Uncharted seas,
Sink to the ocean floor,
But I'll be waiting
For you, across the
Parted sea of my woes,
With open arms,
Ready to greet the
Void of night that
Flows to the beat of my heart.

The cries may ring out
And the regrets
May roll along,
And the fires in our chests
May turn to smoldering ash,
Turn us to bitter dust,
But I'll be sitting silently
For the day you'll come to me,
For the hour you'll arrive
To pacify the rising tides
Of unfathomable weakness,
Of insatiable lust.

The days may trudge on,
And the sun may go down,
And the transient moments
May limp along like
Wounded stars in the night sky,
But come what may,
And come what will,
I'll be here, by your side,
Holding onto you
Until the end-times arrive.

I often dream of you
In the mist of the
Dark-lit night,
When the trees rustle
Gently in the wind,
And the leaves flutter
Across the sky or
Float like balloons
Into the realm of
The moon that sparkles,
Glistens like my heart
Under the luminescence
Of your radiant care.

I often dream of
You and I,
Hands clutched at
Our sides, not because we
Are together, but
Because we understand
The touch, understand
The promises that jump
From the fountains
Of unsaid feeling,
Of timid concessions,
Of uncaged breaths
And pounding chests.

I often dream of
You and I,
Staring into each
Other's eyes, soaking up
The hues like whirlpools
Struck by amorous
Gravity, grounded by
Golden bands, softened
Like ineffable desire.

I often dream
That you rest your
Head on my shoulder,
Close your eyes and
Think, and that I rest
My cheek upon your hair,
Glide my fingers atop
Your skin, hope to
God that time won't
Split the world in two
Like a lumberjack's axe
Upon a thousand-year-old
Tree, whose bark is
Fashioned from
Sweet-tasting serenades
And undying wisdom.

I often dream that
You let me into your
Thoughts, bathe my
Wounds with your
Love-bound remedies,
Your sprightly giggle,
The look in your pupils
That runs chills down
My back and
Into my lungs.

I often dream of you,
Dream that you'll
Remember my figure
In coming years past,
That you'll remember
What my skin felt
Like upon yours,
That you'll remember
Why my heart fell
Upon you, and not
The lustful, dishonest gazes,
That you'll remember
Why I smiled for you,
Not for what I
Wanted you to be.

But then again,
I often dream.

I smell the wind-whipped breeze of
A thousand sun-kissed days,
Breathe the crumbling masses
Of a million broken stars,
Hear the hushed, blank cries
Of a billion swollen hearts,
And taste the bitter tears
Of the whitecapped ocean
Beneath your chest-hugged legs.

This amalgam of hues on
A blank paper page is
Nothing but a wistful image,
A reflection of a dying moment,
A passed eon in the midst of
What’s left, gone, seen,
But I faun over it, dote its
Tacit candor, glide my
Chilly soul over it,
Disillusioned, unaware of
The face behind the blue eyes,
The dark, flowing hair,
The slender figure hunched over
A granite island in the midst of the
Green and gray canyons,
Like a perched hawk over
A boulder-faced mountain,
And I find that I’m falling
In love with you,
With the scent of the past,
With the novel sagacity stuck
On your cherry-licked lips,
With the sun’s golden fingers
That caress the water’s surface
Like a silken stare at the
Edge of a lush green meadow.

But tell me, my thorny rose,
Am I not falling in love
With your unproven allure,
Your fixated transience,
Your deceiving honesty?
Can I truly be in love
With an image, an obstinate replica,
Without having felt the loneliness
Of longing, unblinking glances
With your impalpable reality?

Tell me, my heart,
And don’t feed me bitter lies,
Can I love what’s but only a wish,
An enigma that visits me
When I drift away with the rising tides?

Sliding atop ink-laden lights
That stretch like sound waves
Across the tides of my
Swollen thoughts, my bending eyes,
This matter breathes life
Into my chest, glides its
Silky hands across my face,
And turns my cheeks to solid gold;
But it weighs me down, ***** me
To the ground like
A vortex of infinite desire,
And it plays me like a pawn
To the madness of a game of dreams,
Governed by unwise wishes
Of pensive demands
And bountiful desolation.

Drifting like tumbleweed across
My thoughts, this matter speaks
Words of comfort at the expense
Of my good friend named insecurity,
And it slams his soul to the ground,
Stomps it with a verve ostracized by
Earthquakes and pulsating fissures,
Breaks it in two like a wishbone
Waiting for a plea,
And it dots me in green,
Locks me in a room filled with
The tyranny of silence,
Filled with the irony of a thousand
Evil, unpublished thoughts that
Sit dormant, terrified to peek
Into the light of eager desire.

Trudging like a broken soul,
This matter ages with rings
Like trees in an undying forest,
Becomes harder with the
Advancement of insatiable greed,
Flicks a switch and beckons me over
To sit on its lap, listen to its words,
Let its frozen breath tickle my ears
As it begs to eat me alive.

But am I alive?
My heart beats, but it doesn't sing,
My eyes can see, but they don't shine,
My mouth can speak, but I can't scream,
And a crown sits atop my head,
But it's made of flimsy plastic.

Yes, all the titles in the world
Are pinned to my tattered red skin,
But they won't matter once I
Strip for a good night's rest.

Raise me up, atop the river of oceans,
And baptize me under the wings of the stars;
Soak me in the still waters
Of boundless transience,
And bathe me in the blood of the waning moon.

Raise me up, above this bed of earth
And make me drift above the pillow-like clouds
That trail the skies of black and blue,
And wait for them to fade,
Just as the darkness will,
When the day runs its course.

Raise me up, above the chains of time,
And drop me on the face of everlasting feeling,
Of infinite tides that crash upon the shores
Of fading memories, of translucent pasts,
And let me drink the water filled with
Certainty and guileless candor, pray
That I'll remain here forever,
That the beach I lay atop won't
Clump and fall and sway and tumble
Into the empty pits of
Forgotten promises and unsaid words.

Raise me up, against my will,
Above the plains of grass and roses
Of black and red, steal me away
And tap my eyes with the lucid
Dreams of my seething impermanence,
And sting me with the daggers of
Regret and redemption, of
Begging to remain for just another moment.

Raise me up, and let me soar
Atop the summit of banished wishes,
And let me cast my body away, let it
Fumble down the rocks and pebbles and boulders
On the slopes of passing instants,
But let me, my unbreakable soul,
Stay right there, frozen in the midst of
Feeble remembrances and sprinting clocks,
And let me know, just this once,
That I haven't lived until I've been lost.

I've been sitting
Atop this lonely spot
For as long as I can remember.
But time does not affect it, for time
Is a pure abstraction
Of my ephemeral presence,
My waning consciousness.

I drift like a cloud,
Sway like a stray hair,
Waiting for the dawn that won't arrive.
The day when you'll grab me
By the soul, scan the pages of my heart,
Look me in the eyes without
Innumerable distraction,
And treat me as a human,
Treat me as a mate,
Treat me as a love.

I'll wait while you take
Solemn breaths upon the
Dying waters of ignorance,
The calming tides of playful banter,
Meaningless discourse,
Wait while you run
Through mud-stained plains
Expecting to stay clean,
Wait while you cry tears
Expecting not to get wet,
Wait while you speak words
Expecting nobody to
Remember what you said;
I'll wait patiently, obediently,
Hoping, praying, that one day
The tormenting clouds will part
And reveal the omniscient light from above,
That it'll cleanse the world like a rag,
And soak up the raw injustice
That stems from opportune circumstance.

But until then I'll sit here,
Unbound by the tribulations
Of passing time,
And I'll watch as the last
Grain of sand stays dormant
In the hourglass of our time on Earth;
But until the day you achieve clarity,
Until the day you feel what I feel,
I'll be picking flowers that
Sprout from the infinite soils,
Waiting for the dawn that won't arrive.

I remember, however long ago,
My friend called me an unsung hero.
And he said it in a tone of voice
As if to comfort me,
To console me for not being played
In the ballads of far-gone legend
Or in the soft-spoken stories
Told solemnly around a fire,
Smoke billowing in the air
Like immolated lost dreams
And falling, wistful pride.

And I just looked at him,
Unsure of what to say.
In those moments,
It's rather common
To be gracious, to be humble,
But I didn't respond in any such way.
It's because I didn't feel like the title,
Didn't feel as if I'd earned
Something to be proud of, since
I'd just been me for as long
As time had coddled my existence.

But when he said that,
I felt the world cave in like a tunnel,
Felt my ego dissolve as if it were
Being bathed in acid, and I realized,
Maybe too, late, that being a hero
Doesn't entail boundless wisdom,
Doesn't entail haughty accomplishments,
Doesn't entail inordinate hubris,
Doesn't entail selfishness like he believed.
No,
Being a hero, an intricate warrior
Is being a dragonfly soaring
Across a meadow of lava,
Is staying silent but
Loud enough for all to hear,
Is defending the passions
That bind your soul,
Is standing on two feet
When one's been broken,
Is guarding your heart
With a well-oiled pen,
Is fending off harpies
With an eager chuckle.

And I won't ever pretend
That I'm an "unsung hero",
For that would mean my path is destined
For a hero's end, a conceited flaw,
A predetermined death governed by
What I'd been trying to hide from all along.
And if I have to sail across glacial tundra,
Trek across scathing plains,
Dig my feet into caustic quicksand
Or walk along the surface of the sun
Just to prove I'm not the hero you perceive,
Then so be it,
I'll pack my boots and papers
And meet you at dawn,
Atop heaven's summit, somewhere
Far out in the distance, beyond
The twinkling stars and mystifying blackness
That swallows everything whole,
That makes heroes tremble in fear.

But I will not shudder, not falter,
For I am no hero,
But a well-heard whisper.

I am the liquefying touch
Of boundless intrigue,
The thin coating
Over the map of anthropogenic
Wisdom, the thick seas
Dividing lands and soil,
The clear droplets
That slide down windows,
Burst with energy,
Coagulate with brotherhood.

I divide people,
I join masses,
I scorch the Earth
And I flood its plains,
I drink the verve
Of fallen comrades,
Expiate the sorrows
Swollen with God's irate shouts
And I shake the Earth's core,
Pour my brethren upon
Boundless grasslands and plains.

I am ambivalent emotion
Sprung from fountains
Of unobtainable youth,
Spry and fresh like grateful pride,
I am light in darkness,
Confounding isolation,
Unbearable dissociation,
Conceivable admiration,
But most of all,
And this rings true,
I am life itself
And I stick to everything
Around me and you.

Tu es comme le printemps,
Comme le vent qui souffle
Par terre, qui me frappe
À cœur, qui me soulève
Et me jete au ciel,
Où les nuages me caressent le visage
Et me disent des mots
D'amour et gentillesse,
De force et de jeunesse.

Tu es comme le printemps,
Comme les arbres qui grossissent
Pour que je puisse les admirer,
Pour que je puisse les toucher,
Et sentir la soie de ses
P'**** cheveux qui restent
Dans l'air timide mais éclatant,
En attendant le couche de soleil
Qui s'avance à l'horizon.

Tu es comme le printemps,
Comme les fleurs bleues et rouges
Qui balancent comme des
Spectateurs qui écoutent au musique,
Qui descendent d'espace et embrasse
La terre, et tu es comme le soleil
Qui brille sur les champs,
Qui réchauffe ma poitrine
Et me caresse les lèvres.

Tu es comme le printemps,
Comme l'air frais en descendant
Le soleil, comme l'orange du ciel
Qui se couvre le monde,
Comme l'odeur souple des pommes
Qui accrochent des branches,
Comme le tranquillité de ne rien se passer.

Tu es comme le printemps,
Comme la nuit qui s'approche
Les villes et les campagnes,
Comme les étoiles qui
Me font penser, espérer
Que je peux t'aimer,
Ou te comprendre,
Même si le printemps devient l'hiver.

/

You're like the spring,
Like the wind that blows
Across the earth,
That knocks on my heart,
That lifts me up
And shoots me to heaven,
Where the clouds caress my face
And tell me words
Of love and kindness,
Of strength and youth.

You are like the spring,
Like the trees that grow
So that I can admire them,
So that I can touch them,
And feel the silk of their
Little hairs that sit
In the timid yet lively air,
Waiting for the sunset
That advances on the horizon.

You are like the spring,
Like the blue and red flowers
That sway like audience members
Listening to music,
Who descend from space and kiss the soil,
And you are like the sun
That shines on the fields,
That heats my chest and kisses my lips.

You are like the spring,
Like the cool air that comes
When the sun goes down,
Like the orange of the sky that covers the world,
Like the supple scent of apples
That hang from branches,
Like the peace of nothing happening.

You are like the spring,
Like the night that approaches
The cities and country-sides,
Like the stars that make me think,
Even hope that I can love you,
Or understand you,
Even if the spring becomes winter.

Chaotic words, chaotic thoughts,
Bombastic ideas and pensive deliberations
That float, even fly like volcanic ash,
Pounded out of the molten Earth as if
God were hitting the crust with a hammer,
And the masses of ash and dust cloud the sky,
Streaming like red and black chalk
Across the asphalt of uncharted thoughts.

And they rain, rain down
Like a tempestuous conflagration,
Beating upon the earth like mallets on drums,
Vibrating ever-so tenuously in the ears,
But resonating with verve somewhere within,
And then it stops,
Never to be heard or seen again.

And in its place are the bright rays of the sun,
Shooting light like a harpoon toward the ground,
Digging into the supple soil with a medley
Of confusion and anger,
Of apprehension and isolation,
And they burn caustically,
Warm the body as if they were pockets of magma,
Sliding across the flesh
And trickling into the pores, digging down
Into the heart, shaking it, squeezing it, weeping atop it.

And then the night comes on
As the sun retreats below the horizon,
And it brings with it the complacent lights
Of the stars high above,
That glow gently atop our brows and
Reflect dully off our shirts,
Dotting us with the paint-like
Stains of the unbridled release
Of laughter and intimacy,
Of love and vivacity.

And the placid night lights,
They seem to **** up all the heat,
Seem to save it from its vice,
And they dispel it into the great beyond,
Into the great unknown that stares down on the Earth
And renders it quiet and inhospitable.

Yet for some reason,
For some ungodly or unholy reason,
This night brings peace,
Even if dangers lurk somewhere in the dark.

Friendly faces
Soft, silky voices
Unlike the punk music
That reverberates overhead,
In this tiny, unlikely coffee shop
That doesn't smell like coffee,
But of small, carefully baked pastries
That sit lonely on a windowsill,
Not likely to see the rabid blue sky
Or the tall, elegant façades
Of buildings constructed from the ground up.
And how lonely they must be,
Just like the people behind the counter,
Who long to feel the beating heat
Of the forthcoming sunlight
Or the sense of freedom earned
Just by walking these quiet city streets
Dominated only by a love for adventure
Or a love for all things immaterial.

Glowing orbs
Of incandescent light
That gleam like star-struck eyes
In the waking, placid night
These cities below me
Sit quiet, asleep
As far as the eye can see.
Their hushed cries
Of encapsulated innocence
Are all but unheard so high above,
And their mature, conflicting bellows
Are all but forgotten
In the midst of the dark,
Undefined horizon.
But look beyond their seeming insignificance,
Their appeared impotence,
And you'll see the light
That seems to never die
Despite the arising fatigue within their
Moonlit streets
And tall, shrouded buildings.
Look beyond their flawed structures,
Graffiti-stained walls, and you'll see
They're made,
Just as we are,
Of undying light,
That seems to shine best
When darkness clouds the sky.

I fear that when I die, I’ll forget who I am.

I fear that all of my memories will wash away

And never return; that they’ll be left to die

In the midst of space, that they’ll drift to another world.



I fear that I’ll forget that I loved people

As much as I loved the world

That I loved watching sunsets

More than I loved sleeping

That I loved to think with words

More than I loved to think with images.



I fear that I’ll forget my loving parents

Who loved me for my what I’d become

I fear that I’ll forget my siblings

Who loved me for what I’d done

I fear that I’ll forget my friends

Who loved me for what I’d loved

And I fear that I’ll forget how to breathe,

For it reminded me I'm only human.



I fear that I’ll forget my life

And that time will swallow me whole

That it’ll bare its glass-edged teeth

And bite down on my soul

I fear I’ll bleed profusely,

But that my blood will be black

I fear I’ll reach out longingly

As my mind will shed its light.

That I’ll become a paragon of nothing,

That I won’t be able to stay.



But everyone must die, that’s true,

It’s the one thing we all see.

Though people can’t come to terms with it,

It’s an inevitable end for all.

But don’t focus on death, no,

For you’ll surely lose your way.

Instead, focus on making more memories

Because they’ll save you from the gray.

Distant cries of a foreign city,
Melodic fluctuations
Of tumult and reverberation
Weeping aloud at the gates of heaven,
Painfully singing a dream of bliss,
Joyously chanting an echoing hymn,
Spreading ethereal wings
High above the ground
Made of fertile silver ash.
And what complex simplicity,
What gracious harmony!
Wishes more than granted,
Heart more than stolen,
Vibrations more than sensation,
Memory more than a fleeting instant.
Life may go on,
But I'll stay here
Right at this very moment.

Iridescent glow
Whiter than black sunlight
Translucent rays of
Incoherent ire
Burn like molten heartbreak
As a feeling
Redolent of regret
Chars my skin
As though I were
Desolation incarnate.

Long green stalks
Uprooted from the soil
Wither into dust
And dissipate into the air
Above the meadow.

A seed bursts open
And its stem
Creeps out
Of the ground.

Time passes.
The stem now a stalk,
It sways in the wind,
Lonely and solemn.

Time passes.
Iridescent blue petals,
Closed, isolated bud,
Just shy of consciousness.

Time passes.
The bud is now a flower,
Grounded only by its roots,
Fragile and ephemeral
As it dances in the wind.

Time passes.
The petals shrivel,
The stalk bends,
Yet it clings on
To its fleeing vivacity.

Time passes.
Its petals now black,
It wilts to the ground,
Unbound by its constraints.

Long green stalks
Uprooted from the soil
Wither into dust
And dissipate into the air
Above the meadow.

A seed bursts open.

An old man
Lies helplessly
On his mattress,
Covered by darkness
And filled with grief.

A young man,
His son,
Stands next to him,
His arm outstretched,
Gripping his father's lanky fingers.

The son glances at him
Half-expecting his dad
To say something,
Yet all the old man can do
Is close his eyes.

His breathing stops.

His vision goes black.
Yet, somehow,
Through the darkness,
Shines a light, so bright in view,
So welcoming in presence.

He is transported to a green meadow,
Filled with black roses,
That beckon him to move ahead,
To let go
Of the past.

Hesitantly he stands,
Takes a deep breath, and,
Tilting his head toward the sky,
Frowns reluctantly.

He looks ahead,
Staring at his fleeting past.
He takes a step through his childhood,
Through his adolescence,
Through his adulthood,
Through his marriage,
Through the birth of his child,
Through the death of his lover.

He reaches the end,
The future made only of light.
He looks behind him once more,
Unsure about letting go.

His memories become distant.
They dissolve into the fine air
And dissipate like vapor,
Until all that remains
Is the green grass below them.

He looks at the light,
As it becomes more welcoming
Than ever.
He weeps for a moment,
And steps inside.

I rest my consciousness
On the proliferating meadows
That stretch toward the sun,
That sway in placid solitude
In the tacit winds
That flow across my body.

I rest my consciousness
In the stars of the night
That caress my jaded visage
And assure me that my wishes
Will manifest themselves
Within my beating heart.

I rest my consciousness
Atop mountains and peaks
That envision a world of harmony
By harboring the aspirations
Of those who stand atop them,
Awe-struck by the omnipresent calm.

I rest my consciousness
In the landscape of my thoughts
That, like the meadows,
Will stretch onward
Until I draw my last breath
And exhale dispassionately.

I rest my consciousness
In the world of make-believe,
In the world that accepts me
Not because I am normal,
But because I can only be content
When I channel my inner wordsmith.

I rest my consciousness
In a night filled with silence
And, as I close my eyes
And let the dark fall over me,
I grin, cognizant
That my dreams are boundless.

If, when we die,
We choose our
Destination,
I would travel
Into the night sky
And become one
With the stars.

They lack judgment,
They lack wisdom,
Yet they are animals
Of infinite spans of
Inherent mystery.

As my body would
Materialize
And drift slowly
Through the airless
Darkness,
I would close my
Eyes,
And listen to the
Cacophonous silence.

I would let my
Eyes
Rest upon beds of
Black nothingness
And let my vision
Focus only ahead
Of me
On the supernova
Of my own fleeting
Past.

I would let my
Troubles
Become simple
Memories
And let my
Petty body float
Away
As my mind would
Drift
Far into the boundless
Void.

And, as I would
Near the end of
My journey, I
Would not cry,
For that would
Insinuate
That I wasn't at
Peace
For a single
Moment
Of my voyage through
Time and space.

Dans l’avenir,
m’aimeras-tu?
Est-ce que tu m’aimeras
quand je pleure,
puisque tu ne seras pas ici?
M’aimeras-tu,
quand tu me regardes du ciel?
seras-tu avec moi,
quand je suis ici,
et tu es là?
M’aimeras-tu quand je pleure,
pendant la nuit,
quand tu n’es pas avec moi?
Quand tu n’es pas au monde?
Quand tu es morte?
M’aimeras-tu quand ton cœur
Ne se bat plus?
Dis-moi, grand-mère,
Si le cancer ne s’en va pas,
M’aimeras-tu pour toujours?
/
In the future,
Will you love me?
Will you love me
When i cry
Since you won't be here?
Will you love me
When you look at me from heaven?
Will you be with me
When i am here,
And you are there?
Will you love me when i cry
At night
When you're not with me?
When you're not in the world?
When you're dead?
Will you love me when your heart
Doesn't beat anymore?
Tell me, grandmother,
If the cancer doesn't go away,
Will you love me forever?

You cut my chest
Open
With a scalpel
And remove my heart.

I let the blood cover
Your sober hands
That never touch
Such impurities.

I let you watch
Blatantly
As I slowly drift
Into a loveless death.

And as I watch
Your uncaring glance
Turn into a frown
Of sorrow
I still believe
There's hope in the world.

I often wonder
How odd it is
To love someone
With all of your heart.

If you love someone
With such passion as that
Will there be room
For other love?

A family
A child
A late relative
Can you still love them?

Because if you give your
Heart
Away so quickly,
There can only be room
For excruciating pain.

Quand je vois
Les étoiles
Dans le ciel
À nuit
Je pense
De tes yeux
Sympathiques
Éclatants
J'atteins mes bras
Au ciel
Et je pleure.

When I see
The stars
In the sky
At night
I think
About your eyes
Friendly
Glowing
I reach out my arms
To the sky
And I cry.

The door up the stairs,
It eludes my conscience,
I'm ignorant of what is to wipe,
Across my thoughts.

Come here, they say,
Sit down, they say,
We have news, they say,
Stage 3 ovarian, they say.

How could it happen, I ask?
That so innocent a person,
With so much life and vigor,
Can fall into such a void of hopelessness?

She arrives in the door,
70 years young,
Sullen and tenuous,
Her tears fall caustically ,
Down her face.

The older man, hit so hard
Falls short in his strength;
His arms fall numb,
To the pain of occurring loss,
His tears fall caustically,
Down his face.

Hugs are thrown left and right,
As tears shed violently,
The shock kicks in,
Where will she be in the future?

I suddenly think, as quickly as i see,
Their willowing visages,
How long will she last?
And my mind drifts into the unknown.

I see her face covered in sun,
Illuminated by the vigor of health,
Her breaths cease to exist,
Yet she is more alive than ever.

She turns to me and says,
Isn't this wonderful?

My mind snaps back to reality,
The cold house chills my body,
The tears still feel caustic,
And the pain still feels unbearable.

But in all of this misery,
There is one thing,
We can look forward to.

The thing that we can't predict,
The place we can't imagine,
The experience we can't escape,

The Future.