---

---

I had dreamed of loving, I still love but love
Is no longer that bouquet of lilacs and roses
Filling the woods with their fragrance
Where a flame lies at the end of paths which do not bend.

I had dreamed of loving, I still love but love
Is no longer that storm where the lightning superimposes
Its pyres on castles, routs, convulses, illuminates,
While fleeing the parting of the ways.

It is the spark of flint under my footsteps at night,
The word no dictionary in the world has translated
The foam on the sea, that cloud in the sky.

With age all becomes rigid and clear,
Streets without names, ropes without knots.
I feel myself harden with the landscape.

---