A floor of flowers of the fields
Posed like a fruit
I did not understand
Softness east flees
Unceasingly with the mounting
I do not belong myself any more
These gestures you see
I cannot about it any more
With the solstice of a summer
La mémoire d'une nuit particulière, où l'intime
devient l'ennemi, où la vision, les mots se
troublent...