Tragedy in three act


darreski fau novaciek

piu estro eti nereo,

o põla, o põla?

vejnhobra aqui stereo –

domen e nikivaciek.


ciume fai gmesk fiat

antebene vi sol-amwa,

o põla, ¡o põla!

xuen ohnbefau epiatt

vonvar piu se dor-amwa;


tibrod peleïv moss y

fabridago nue ai querzia.

o põla, o põla…

am nodo fi setzia

tibrod aguajda do vosci.


A mystery is only as deep as the shroud that surrounds it.


For a few more


Ain’t no grave can hold my body down,

Ain’t no moonlight gonna drape me in its gown,

Ain’t no high sea deep enough to make me drown;

I should know for I have long trodden –

Ages past and eons through –

Among those higher cast, among the rotten,

When all is false that becomes true;

Ain’t no body down can hold my grave,

Ain’t no body up can splinter this trave,

Ain’t no stranger’s hand which may engrave;

But mine.

– Oh the wine

Tastes so sweet –

But yours.

– Drink it quick! Before it sours…

T’will be gone in a beat. –

But one.

There ain’t no king can wear my dirty crown,

There ain’t no grave can hold my body down.

But one.



But one.

Nothing is harder than a diamond


A diamond begins in the rough,

Hidden from all under the earth;

Sole are the eyes of the jeweler

As they set upon which is worth.

Just like a journey is enough

The goal shall not make man ruler

For in the shadow of small things

Grows the willow and its rains;

A melody with golden strings

Written, washed out – its rust stains,

Illuminates and scents the air

And, when the lips, in gentle blows

Provokes and sustains the long stares

– What is now gone may not be seen

Or what is lost in darkness flows –

Watch as becomes what should have been.


Shine bright like a diamond.

Dawn tracks


This train dashes into the night

Below a sky of stars and moon,

Spouting warm, puffy clouds

Into the cold air of the mountains –

Of thoughts and hopes and dreams;

The tracks lead on and on

Ever far away, always somewhere new,

It chugs down the river of steel

And yet all is silent :

Not even the engine comes to break the peace,

Sometimes when a tunnel

Chokes all the world away

The travel becomes bleak

And the traveler dark,

But always, somehow, he finds ways to express

And orient eve towards morn

Until the sun rises and boredom fades in hues

Of pale opal and their vast palette of hope;

If you are patiently curious

Do go ask the old conductor,

He has a thousand and one stories to share.


I will die


Oh I feel I will die sometime this afternoon,

I know I shall be dead by the end of the year;

But it does not matter

I do not really care

For I shall live again

In each and every tear

Of all those whom I dear

To deride or flatter,

For you I leave this stare :

A final awkward stain;

Under the starless sky of the midday moon

And surely in a way that most would find queer.


Why? But why not?

Matin matin


Ce matin, un lapin a tué un chasseur.

Le matin, le latin perd son professeur.

Le patin à la main, virevolte le danseur.

La satin est si fin et plein de douceur.

Du fade thym, pour la faim, est un peu farceur…

Vil faquin, qui te tint pour amant de ma soeur !

Qu’est hautain le marin qui vogue à toute heure.

De l’étain ne s’éteint même quand vient l’heure.

Et la main dans la main, nous marchons en choeur.

Sois serein, cet essaim ne veut ton malheur.


Petite expérience sans prétention pendant un atelier d’écriture.

Belle eve


This eve I have had a revelation of sorts

Amidst the nightly melancholia,

The longing for what I cannot have

And the reminiscence of what I did,

No one, surely, shall ever ask

But if one ever was to

Then I perhaps I would word my thought so:

My poems are akin to a perfume,

They feel just as the flowing wind

As brittle as thin ice on a leaf

And as rare as a blood rose

Blossoming aeons away on an asteroid,

As a frog in the foulest of streets

I hope from one to the other,

Trying to catch them before sleep

Trying to make them into eternal gems,

To stare again once I have awoken,

To touch again when day had risen

Or to keep warm in one of those nights

Where darkness drops a veil too thick…

I grab ever tentatively

Although never catch,

Never will I truly succeed,

I can watch all I want,

I can listen until all sounds fade,

I can copy, I can redo,

I can repeat, I can remake,

Never will it be the same.

And yet I try,

And yet I emulate,

Over and over and over and over again,

A madman in a sea of fire

Trying to swim to the shore

But sinking to the depth of this mischievous ocean,

Drifting to the furthest reaches of a wounded mind…

And yet I try,

And yet I hope,

Soon night will take me and it will be over,

Soon night will bathe me in its motherly cover.

I am as I hope, yet I expect to be elsewhere

Elsewho, elsewhen and perhaps even elsewhy…


Hope but do not expect,

Wish but do not wait,

For all is but subject

To its own hand of fate.


M, A, E-tréma, L. Quatre sons qui, croyez-le ou non, semblent me définir sympathiquement bien ces derniers temps.


J’aime beaucoup de choses, souvent. J’aime plus que je n’aime point; non par boniment mais par sincérité je peux dire que j’aime facilement, et que l’inverse ne me vient aussi naturellement.


Ou plutôt “AH !”, cette expression de surprise me caractérise. J’aime à l’utiliser, que ce soit nécessaire ou non, elle me parle, me plait, et m’amuse beaucoup.


Marque de l’hésitation, de la réflexion, du doute. Tout ce qui me semble m’accaparer beaucoup trop au lieu d’actes et de paroles.


Pour intensifier le E, le mettant en exergue, n’est là que pour perturber, embêter, signe du petit gamin farceur et jovial que j’aime à être.


Celle-là je la garde pour moi, cette lettre qui m’occupe et me taraude, qui m’inspire et me fascine. Serait-elle à moi que je ne la posséderais pas.

L s’amplifie du M, du A et du E-tréma autant qu’elle les amplifie.