# 252 Temptation-17
17
Tentation du
manque. A dépouiller jusqu’au noyau du froid. Une ivresse cependant. Refermée
sur ce qui n’est pas rien. Ô combien ce quelque chose creuse. Toute sa place.
Avec boue sur ses bas-côtés d’hiver finissant. S’en va tandis que s’en vient
dans les veines les radicelles de l’autre. A bas bruit pourtant quel vacarme ce
qui matériellement absent brûle. Vers qu(o)i tout converge.
Temptation of
missing. To be skinned off to the core of cold. Intoxication though. Folded
around what is not nothing. How much this something hollows out. Its whole
place. With mud on its ending winter’s roadsides. Goes away while rootlets of
the other are coming through veins. Almost unnoticed yet what a racket this materially
absent who/which is burning. Towards whom/which everything
converges.
Inspiring, Béatrice...
ReplyDeleteHow I miss what is
right before me
a glance a moment
like I am hollow
or a cloud that
doesn't belong
Beautiful, temptation and Inspiring, Beatrice.
ReplyDeleteit's a whole landscape... fantastic!
ReplyDelete