Like a deadened nerve which never calms down,
my body’s arching under this sputtering noise :
remains of wings mingled with bones
that wind divides and scatters, in secret.

Immured fluid beauty, in my gold casket [bad word]  like a pearl, I fall asleep.
Between sky and earth your shadow’s dissolving deep down inside me

In this day-nigth / slow death agony...

You give yourself up to the secret of my lips, and discover an urn to my viscera.
Long floating strings lost in black waters,
sweeping away our memories.

Remorse is like this clear noise of the ink shunning me.
Half-moon eye, where to hide myself ?
I give myself up to the driving rain
while my teeth are squeezing you.
Remorse is like this dull noise of the hammer hitting you.
There, beauty takes form only at dead of night.