So many words offered to the hands of the world
Re-meshed with the underground rivers
Great chaos watched for us in edge of our islands
Great dreams raised our waves
And hid the words under sands of the world
Here come crying the filaos
We passed the threshold of the Indies
Passed the threshold of the unconsoled syllables
Because no one is safe from silence
And life is always a trap which starts again
And what we inhabit is the thought of the world
Intoxication of the words
Cruel death of the words
We will sound the mongrel (hybrid)rains
We will assemble(mobilize, gather) the Crack
Because
We are people of prophetic traces
Of untied words
Stolen words from the wall of the horizon
And the tale in us always made its round
Country cracked and of seas dilated with the sides of the world
We know of it the use and the din of black sun
The balan of suffering
The joy of clays
The ungovernable rock with the doors of the rivers
Salt country
The poet threw the dice of the secrecies
Papered the pit of our lights
And défroissé midday of the sea
Birth of the births
The poet makes crowd
And its death justifies the sun of the consciences
Each one will invent its words
Each one will probe its own salt
Will light
Its own candle
Its own star
For better remembering than
The sky was inclined to collect its light
But it belongs to us
Its dream belongs to us
We will keep the print of the Prince
We have appointment with the informulable
Its word
Is one century
A jungle out of night light
Heart worries about the world
An archipelago with the eyes of eclipse
Its word
So many moved suns
So many oceans buckled with the ankles of the roots
So many spanned cities
So many unearthed stars
I speak in the name of a poet
Of a total and completely indelible writing
And I look at maturing the horizon
And I ask for the hospitality of All-world
And I plant a acomat
And I gird the rock of Diamond
Who borrows your face to come
This crowned praise of marine birds
This guard royal inspired by your dreams
And in this place
Where the stone is made flame
In this place of intractable beauty
I look at passing the heart of the world
Fine words of the world
Ernest Pip
Faugas on February 4, 2011
