Windows

how much     loss

gains suddenly in emphasis

and     brilliant sadness

  ii

far from that which lives and turns

  iii

languages

of our vain comings and goings wilt and gnaw

  iv

beat them,                                punish

them for having said and always said

  v

tear out, finally,      our spells

  vi

one life pours and grows impatient

for another life

  vii

and the lovers, look on them there,

immobile and frail

pinned like the butterflies

for the beauty of their wings

  viii

too great in the outdoors

  ix

like the lyre, you should be

  x

like the scales or the lyre

  xi

should I defend myself

am I not intact

  xii

one who loves is never             beautiful

  xiii

tender–strained

  xiv

all hazards are abolished

at the middle of love

with a little bit of space around it

where we are the masters

  xv

changeable like the sea

  xvi

ice, sudden, where our face is mirrored

traversed

  xvii

taste of freedom compromised

by the presence of fate

  xviii

for whom would I wait

  xix

with this heart all full which loss completes

  xx

will I be found when the night abounds

given over to you, inexhaustible

  xxi

climb! turn far and away

  xxii

doubt

that you can give the                         excess which arrests me

  xxiii

the sky, immense example

of depth and height

  xxiv

make of the air a round arena

  xxv

effort circumscribes

our life enormous

  xxvi

stretched toward the night

what

escaped

  xxvii

set            out in type on the page

a little

image

vague

  xxviii

like the greyhounds

arranging their legs

  xxix

the sense of our rites

waits

  xxx

intent

  xxxi

who rushes, who tilts, who remains

after the abandonment of the night

  xxxii

starry                  avaricious

  xxxiii

all the grand unbroken numbers

that the night will multiply

  xxxiv

new celestial youth

the matutinal sky

  xxxv

buckles                 close

  xxxvi

under the guise of tenderness

  xxxvii

time         uses his jacket

  xxxviii

inconsolable space

  xxxix

turned me into wind,

placed me in the river

  xl

leaves             fled    ...    

  xli

I had drunk

all of my abyss

  xlii

one must not tire

and eat with one’s eyes

  xliii

vision watered

profusely a           garden of images

  xliv

each bird whose flight crosses

my expanse

  xlv

nothing but looking seems like life to me

  xlvi

nothing but looking seems like life

  xlvii

while the prunes ripen

o my eyes, eaters of roses

you will drink the moon

  xlviii

I consent

and I consent                                                   force

  xlvix

o                                                     force

does not frighten me anymore, because it cradles me

  l

in the morning, small wild

become almost a mouth

  li

Be, stars, the rhymes

  lii

say      enough