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The departureSiobhan shes calledThis name makes me think of the windFrozenAs calms as tempestuousIt goes here and thereIt does not seeIt does not feelIt vibrates.How so much softness can bind with such an amount of ardour?I know it.Its not the depressionsNor the fluctuations which make it moveBut the will to go further.Always go further,It doesnt know from where it comes nor from where its born.It goes.Just that.She also goes away.In two moons she will not be there anymore.No more pretty face which smiles at you in the morningNo more soft hands guiding you to find your wayBut a lot of nothing.An empty seatA refrain that I will sing to myself in vainYou were always there for me.That I will not forgetYou will not be able to escape in vainOf my soft hugsThat you retain.Your departure is for me the largest sorrow.
An angel and a biscuitAn angel and a biscuitWhich report can they have?I see it,I feel it,Because it beats all in the bottom there,It beats so strong but I will not be able to see them,Yes just to see them,Just to speak to them,Just be with them.They dont want,They cannot,But I can!But I want!I can give everything to see them,I can offer everything for just a smile,They are my second family,Only one glance and Im relieved,A weight less fixed on my heart fell,It has flown away,Disaggregated,I also would like to fly away,To be able to float,In an ocean of purity.I also would like to taste,To feel the flavour of coldly prepared biscuit,Is it filled?I fear it,I can only imagine,I can only hope,Taste this small salted biscuit,And smile to thank her.
An angelAn angel was posed,On the shoulder of my soft half,He whispered some words in secrecy,Then these words were forgotten,To the profit of horrible spites,Now my soft half,Doesnt have any more entrusting angel.She cried,Despaired,She is frightened,By this too great difference,Who is worth such an amount of spite to her,Only a pair of angels can save her,I of it am a half,The other,Also,Is well known,Her heart so heavy that it is,Cannot be carried,But by these winged characters.It is said that we are all angels,And that we can only fly by embracing each other,However,Some,Lost their wings,To the profit of more beautiful qualities,Not for themselves,But for their fellow-members,Its for that which its necessary that they rise,So that they also,Can taste the sky.
When I close my eyesWhen I close my eyes
I see what no one can see,I feel everything more intensely,I am more inspired,If I write in this moment with closed eyes,It's to give,A bit of my soul to the poem.I have so much things in me which only ask to leave,As the name of the loved woman who is unaware of it,Like my devotion to the Earth,Like all my existential questions,Like the most important thing on Earth,Happiness,Bliss,All these words so soft that we seek so hard,All these things which are so subjective,And essential to life,These words, these things,I run after like everyone,While hoping to catch one up one day,I launch this call of love,Who from my soul is propagated,Towards all those that I know,All those that I want to know,All those that I will know.
I am sorryI am sorry if I frightened you,But it is my race,Yes my race
To go where?I do not know yet,But Im going,I want so much to be there,That Im precipitating and moving away from there,Perhaps I say to myselfThat I can bring nothing to the others,That only the distance can bring something,Then should I remain distant?However I so much like to be present.Why do I live like that?Why do I do all that?I dont know,Or I dont want to know,Better I do not have time.Each time it would be necessary to climb up the tree to know why.Oh yes why,Its a short word,But so filled with significance.Why do I run after happiness?Perhaps because I never had it?Perhaps because its only an illusion?Because even while going towards it,I cannot reach it.
A small finchA small finch,It sings happily,It smiles to the passersby,Who listen to it tenderly,It's you my small finch,I like to hear you whistle,The merry heart,The soul full of spirit,That fills me of joy,To hear your voice,Singing fa si la,Embellishing my weary,You make happy,Whoever is beside you,This time,It was me,I had to leave this soft place,From where I was hearing you sing,And bringing gaiety,To my strayed soul.
Another tearIt is a tortuous way which a tear takes.It starts below the eye,Activated by the brain which,Of a sadness or an intense joy,Ordered this wave of emotions,It rolls in on the face as in the world,It goes more or less quickly,It's careless of the wind ,It chooses its own way,At least it believes it.Guided by the geography of the ground,It carries on its way,Which can carry out towards the mouth,Thus it will finish its race,Or on the chin,Where, forceless,It will fall on the ground,After a journey in space,Which taking an eternity,It will re-examine its race,Then it will crash on the floor,It will disperse in a thousand glares,Who will also fall down,And which, swallowed by the ground,Will nourish,Of its sadness,Or of its joy.