XVI CHRONOS Le sans - visage, sang du seul coeur issu, Sous la clarté devenu sol, sel, usages, Mer où surnage la splendeur d'un visage Qui se croit roc sur un sommeil jamais su, Bloc fissuré d'où coulent, fluent et se suc- cèdent, an après an, rituels sages, (Et quelquefois il se devine passage, Cet univers, pour un craquement perçu) Île brisée et flottaison, il et île Enorgueilli de la croyance futile Qu'un coquillage est le prétexte du flot, Sol refondu de la saumure qui ronge (Songe durci, mais la substance est de songe) Puis dans le sang diluant son bref caillot. 7 mai 1992

Copyright Michel Galiana 01.04.2006 (c) (r) All rights reserved

XVI CHRONOS O faceless one, blood that from a pouring heart streams The sun turned you to salt, soil, reliable trace A sea whereon lingers the splendour of a face That means to be a rock, but is made up of dreams, Cracked rock exuding in continuous flow, Year after year, rituals, appropriate and sound, (Though, when a squeak is heard in the world's underground You may suspect, sometimes, the change you undergo), Broken isle, floating wreck. Yet, either ship or reef, You delude yourself with the deceptive belief That a mere shell may be the pretext for a flood, Soil that the brine has drenched and spoiled and watered down (Hardened dream whose substance remains a dreamed up one) Your short-lived clot shall be diluted in the blood. May 7th 1992

Transl. Christian Souchon 01.04.2006 (c) (r) All rights reserved

Sous bois Index Si de sommeil hanté