The sun unveils beneath the sky’s circle
A land of rivers and forests
A woman of savage virtue
Dishevelled by brackish breezes
Who purges us of world-weariness
I open myself to its great waters
Which turn aside to flow through my dream
I become their bed of clay
They can flood at leisure
And scatter with gems
Like those collars of stars
Thrown round the neck of night
It’s a land of firm earth
Bristled with a frizzy volcanic race
yelling for their freedom
Like a sun which gives birth to a tide-rip
Congo moulded with a slime that spreads
beneath the feet of pachyderm tyrants
Sometimes you pose as an extinct volcano
And you converse with your destiny
Still mingled with the night which strides
With invisible steps crushing
All the stones of the Milky Way
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