The train of your thoughts sells
Your body to the wind
Of your desires
And in your angers
You dream of angels
Of games
And I
Being naked
Being moved
Physically
Literally
Via the madness
To the hilt
Of what hurts
This ecce
****
Wounded-womb
The train of your thoughts sells
Your body to the wind
You suffer in
In your sufferings’ ring
Your funeral Ebro
Your inferno
You remain here
Out of atmosphere
Your light wanders
Around this rime’s end
Severe oration
Oh Reason
Is there an end
In this hunger
To the words’ anger?


Translated and adapted on September 4, 2015
Villeurbanne