Air

Naturally it is night.

Under the overturned lute with its
One string I am going my way
Which has a strange sound.


This way the dust that way the dust.

I listen to both sides
But I keep right on.

I remember the leaves sitting in judgment
And then winter.


I remember the rain with its bundles of roads.

The rain taking all its roads.

Nowhere.


Young as I am old as I am 

I forget tomorrow the blind man.

I forget the life among the buried windows.

The eyes in the curtains.

The wall
Growing through the immortelles.

I forget silence
The owner of the smile.


This must be what I wanted to be doing 
Walking at night between the two deserts 
Singing.

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