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 bundle 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.