…And we left the lightfor the night of the street

Who is that blond child laughing as he runs after his colored marbles? [my marbles]It’s meAnd who is the poet writing this poem?That blond child who laughed as he ran after his colored marbles

Do you remember the long orphanage of the train stationsWe crossed cities that turn-tabled all dayAnd vomited at night the sunshine of the day (“The Voyager”)

The City is free of sinThe snow has given it absolution A man who slips A horse that fallsOh no, the city is in a nightgown

Oh you dear companionsElectric bells of the stations song of the reapersButcher’s sleigh regiment of unnumbered streetsCavalry of bridges nights livid with alcoholThe cities I’ve seen lived like mad women(The Voyager)

Gardens are poemsWhere you stroll with your hands in your pockets.(Les jardins sont des poemes Ou l’on se promene les mains dans les poches.)