Poetry
Portrait of a runaway
Verse
And honey and wine could make us drunk,
fascination, stupor, draw us from the true.
That is why she flees, this one: the runaway,
she flees the shame, holds close her precious joy.
Chorus
Nothing more frightening than the void…
The fear of darkness and the void…
Verse
On her path there is a star that shines,
her body is numb and it carries with it
the memory of the damp earth and of faces,
with these memories as her only inheritance.
Chorus
Nothing more frightening than loss…
The fear of darkness and loss…
Verse
Among the fields ploughed with the gouge,
she owns nothing but a red canvas bag,
yet she now knows that home is everywhere:
the hidden language of things murmurs a gentle tune.
A freer place
She would like to hold again what she has lost with time. A flash runs through her belly: a feeling of love, a violent pain. But she keeps walking, and nothing matters more than the chance of the road.
Verse
She will not say it, but she fled the horror,
she no longer wanted to muzzle her fury,
she now fights against the one-way street,
the hidden language of things.
Chorus
Nothing more thrilling than action…
The courage to believe, and action…
Verse
On her path she sees the grapes ripen,
she lets herself drift on one of the old lakes,
looking at the sky, she dreams herself a bird,
the hidden language of things.
Chorus
Nothing more thrilling than love…
The courage to lose, and love…
Verse
But the desire of bodies carries her to the city,
toward a noisy life, with its difficult edges,
toward what is beautiful in community,
the hidden language of things.