To start before the beginning

Before the earth embalmed me

A time when Cyparisse

Had not yet set root in my belly

Nor made sap of my blood

It was a time when it was possible

To speak to Panza’s donkey

When I thought of Zanzibar

A time when the vagrancy of my soul

Had not yet embarked on its erratic itinerary

Plunging me eventually into the bright light

Of a tainted and squalid reality