My loneliness smells like a wet shadow
The night of the witches is hidden in the dense forests
The gnomes are dying
My arms are still curved by your body.
Vigil begins again and death reappears.
Someone walks aimlessly dreaming of a bread
Dusk the day of red light bulbs in basements
The perpetual twilight of the big factories takes sound like a river
A naked child contemplates the fruits of the garden
The day gallops like a white horse
The implacable light pursues your memory until it crushes it
Against dazzling skyscrapers reclined against the sky.