EnglishPremiers jetsProductions


Millions of orchids scrolling on the walls like glass shards

A primary echo crossing the atmosphere

A square, exploding

A museum

A flowered ruin, a grave crushed under rubble

A blink, a jolt under the pikes of the sun

The poisonous breeze cuddling the peak of the buildings

The fever of the clouds over the horizon

A twinge of sorrow, a doubt, a conditional sentence

An eyebrow quickly raised

A star exploding in the void

A frozen meteor penetrating the field of our possibilities

The inexistent meantime of our forgotten conversations

The tragic misfortune of the ones which will never take shape

The absence of words, of letters at our fingertips

A roof in the storm, a squeaky attic

The dry pond of the ideals

A shimmering, dripping quill

Words struck down by a heart attack

The heavy fogs of their indifference

A window obstructed by sky-blue bars

An acid bubble burst by the obviousness

The cold pulse of the remains of our successes

An iron horse neighing down the avenue

A flat night, a latent sleep behind the lamp posts

An ominous, soundless street

The silent voice of a demon

A glass disguise

A tinted pane

A diving suit crucified on a precarious beam

The flash of vices, the boredom of virtues

An anaemic moon

An ocean of unconscious palavers

A lone bare bark sliding on the springs

An abandoned metro

Doors which shut by agonizing

A crowd in the desert

The groan of a kid lost in the jungle

A cosy, tiny bedroom

The nostalgia of a half-dreamed home

A bouncing, fluffy dog

An exhausted man resting on a makeshift mattress

A stone heart eroded by lightning, mesmerized by eternity

A tobacco mist

A slow oblivious suicide

Dark circles squinting at the ashes

Fading out phrases, paper haze

An insomnia

She and them are kissing on the other side

Blazing bodies embracing

A myriad of lanterns drowning in the noxious swirls

The sketch of an oneiric nightmare

An easel at the edge of a precipice

A music butterfly landing on thistles

Filthy neon lights with a dusty clatter

The dripping, oily gloom

A drowning

Alcohol oozing beneath our clothes

A white monolith rooted in the hollow of the dreams

A voiceless trout

Millions of seconds bursting on our heads

A clock, an unknown lethal tumour

Love, hallucinated

The ardor of temptations, the candour of conversations

The invisible curves of the flowing sand

The regrets of our previous lives

An ivy beard devouring a statue’s chin

A florist eaten by his white roses

A nail broken by a ruby

A poem nibbled, stammered

A reflex

The bitterness of a fallen evening

An anthracite river, some blurring rocky rapids

The frame of an incandescent landscape

A lighter, a flame, a geyser

An obsession



You can find the original poem in French here. The « sequel » is also available, in French only for now, here.

If you enjoyed what you’ve read, you can follow Soma on his Facebook page.


Articles similaires

Laisser un commentaire

Votre adresse e-mail ne sera pas publiée. Les champs obligatoires sont indiqués avec *

Ce site utilise Akismet pour réduire les indésirables. En savoir plus sur comment les données de vos commentaires sont utilisées.

Voir Aussi
Bouton retour en haut de la page