Poetry is always new,
but it is difficult
to embellish it
to match the occasion.
Meanwhile we can try
an adventure, a brush up
of the time and maybe
we will get it: the dreamed
arc of triomphe!
Night falls and the storm
erases the golden
landscape,
the distant fruit,
and the lost love;
but the fire remains
in one's blood.
After night falls,
an implacable
and a terrible blow
comes to show that
we go on as desert
and virgin as
the absence.
