Desire

Mes mots dans ce rêve.

The likeness of snow-covered heaps on desert-searing nights
Of a scathing wind that cursed a name and brought it
By the crook of a deserted nest sunbathed by bare hands,
Seducing a whistle to the primeval waters that shoehorn rocks
Reflected with an awakening flutter within a cold room
With lip of ice and loitering hill sides by a pale tide,
blistering with mercy;