The soul still yesterday wept is quiet- its exile suspended
a country without art only nature
Memory magnolia pure so far off
I am blind
and made from a bit of earth
But your gaze never leaves me
and your angel keeps me.
In the little Laurent Prache Square beside the church of Saint- Germain-des-Pres, there stands a monument to the poet Guillaume Apollinaire.
The Recluse.
In the secret of myself to my secret self
living you have me live
In this room I've lived out madness fear chagrin
the simple walking of a summers day
Exile is vast but it's summer, silence
in the sunlight a place of peace where the soul
invents only joy a child on the road to his home.
Fraction.
Far off is less distant than the ground, the biting
bed of air,
where you stop, like a harrow
on the reddening earth.
I remain above the grass, in the blinding air.
The ground erupts ceaselessly towards us,
without my moving off
from the day.
Nothing.
today,
is trampled.
I don't subsist in the naked air.
On the road growing.
Madam Leonor Fini.
Melwitz Folino
Leonor Fini.
I rested in the arms of my arms
I slept no longer
It was summer winter day
An eternal shiver of thoughts
Fear love Fear love
Close the window open the window.
Identity.
La Boudoir Dada.
DA da DA.
AmOre.
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