XIV JARDIN EN ABÎME Parfums, convulsions et repos. Hagards Bras tâtonnant vers le refuge de bras qu' Outre l'écorce avance une attente et craque Pour en brasier éployer l'essaim de dards. Ici nul feu. Le désir est seul regard Et les chasseurs aux outre-voix qui te traquent. Savoir la nuit! Chemins qui tressent, qui raquent. Si, plus profond le dieu qui veille en toi, car Règnent le nard, l'aconit et la pervenche Sur leurs matins ton hôte veut la revanche Quand la racine est le calice du vent. Houles, limons et noirceurs musiciennes. Deviens ce dieu rebelle qui fasse sienne Une clarté montant des gouffres du sang. 1er mai 1992 Copyright Michel Galiana 01.04.2006 (c) (r) All rights reserved

XIV ABYSMAL GARDEN Perfumes are convulsions and repose: Restless arms That grope, seeking refuge in arms protruding from The bark, impatiently, crunching and crackling on A pyre, when they spread to a fan their darts in swarms. This is a fireless pyre. Desire is the sole glance. There where no voice reaches, the hunters track you down. The interwoven paths of the night must be known To the god hid in you, possessed by vigilance, For iris, aconite and periwinkle reign On whose mornings your host wants his revenge to gain, Once the root has become for the wind a chalice Full of these swells of silt and musical darkness. Be this rebellious god that you may have access To the brightness rising from your own blood's abyss! May 1st 1992 Transl. Christian Souchon 01.04.2006 (c) (r) All rights reserved