I knew it from the moment I heard of your coming
The Congo couldn’t leave you intact
He who bears the bites of a crazy lover
Like you I bear the sickness of river and ocean
When I hear the waves from afar
My heart lifts with the billows
Ready to offer the ocean my nautilic soul
I certainly don’t feel that I’m made of slime
Even if I resemble a clay pot
I need exile your great exile
If I am to weep every night for the waves
O mystery of the beetle who was a god
I roll no ball of waste or of dung
The drizzle gives me fevers
I bird of the high winds born like you
From the violent breath of blue waters.
Leave a comment behind