That morning,
I tied the butterflies to the ark
And reddened my beard,
To be able to speak about the lurid land
In which I had been exiled
Two semesters per year;
As many years
As the lashes I tear down from my eyelids.

I flew over rivers of milk,
Over the orbits of the earth,
Over the charm of the poppy-field,
Over devils,
(those sulphur auras on trees)
Over the three statues of the gates,
Of the nights blackened inside me.

The relics of the decadent civilisations
Have been removed by the:
- Liberty of rotation of the two axes -
- Sincerity of expression at the mental level-
- Dower of the blessed spark -
As if the primordial twinkle
The principle of fertility,

Gave birth on Earth.

In my palm I raised you to the skies
Listening to your harmonious verse,
Alike the golden clock of Time,
Placing you Luminary
Of my never-ending travels
To you.