Category Archives: English translation


I’m only White on the outside,
When I throw away all the darkness
With ardor on the scammer,
Simple asylum seeker facing the examiner.
I do it gently to force forces
To shoot the albatross and build the slaughterhouse
Of their values vaguely waltzing
Since the end of childhood; beliefs.

The financial substance is based on resistance or impotence.
If you are too often satisfied by fashion,
You’re most probably ignorant.
At the edge of the crevasse, the pig.
Time passes and pass away,
I don’t know yet if I leave.

There’s no difference,
Whether I shoot or not.
There’s no more innocence.
Whether I shoot or not,
No difference, really
No difference.

What can push you
To this kind of thoughts
If not to be born stillborn?
It’s dreary and I spread the wreck
As a small pirate who makes
A brick wall away from your panic.
Your life swallows you, you’re so seedy.
Oval view, I scream in peace.

Apparently a private residence,
Is security.
Apparently an innate distrust,
Is sectarian.
I perceive everything opposite
To what they say to show us;
“Ministry of Defense”
For our security, did you get it?
What unconsciousness! What decadence!
Where is common sense?

There’s no difference,
Whether I shoot or not.
There’s no more innocence.
Whether I shoot or not,
No difference, really
No difference.


Filled with courage,
Small advantage;
Big swirl on the fake perch targeted;
Blurred reflection in the broken mirror.
Fill the tank to the top,
Withdrawal without sit down or lie down.

Rain of white handkerchiefs,
No more white mountains;
Boudoir’s life in balance.
No longer enough nightmares.

Diffraction in ten ways;
Said pardon of a thousand saddletree;
Self-management, self-regulation,
Confection, continuation.

No more handkerchiefs,
Rain of mountains,
No more boudoir,
Life of nightmares

And tangled dreams.
The forest is red;
No turning back,
Infrared vision;
Dry envies in melee
At the crossroads of yesterday.

Caviar, a brilliant hoax,
The squid burns its nectar tuning
His flight ordered free
By the vacuity of the master.

View of the daring mind.
Everything is small, ephemeral.
Too late, like
A horseless rider who
Strives itself without ceasing
To save a princess.

Where are the colors?
Where is the prompter?
From laughter to tears,
From cry to rage.

Feel the melancholy in the melody.
The sky is gray since noon;
The “yes” mutates into “maybe”
Before the poet’s destruction.

Golden Tower

From the top of her golden tower,
She passively protests against the Golden Order, and
At the edge of the forest, the poor are ringing the bell.
She believes to elaborate a rope, but
She only condemns them to a death without halo.
She perceives herself in their reflections sent back by a mud-water beaten with blows.

In any case, this is what she says to the ignoramuses.
It’s what she exclaims, but she doesn’t spread much energy.
From now on, she’s on her knees.
It’s heartbreaking, and she’s angry against the old fools.
In any case, this is what she explains selfishly.
It’s painful to light down the deaf who are drowning.
It’s more enviable to veil by living in a sneaky way.

Deep down, in her ivory tower, she no longer sees anything.
Did she once perceive
The monster that has made her so affluent?
She decides not to believe it in order not to fall,
And it’s her choice … Yes, is it her choice?
It’s cruel ; But what isn’t?

Her goldsmith adorns her with audacious ornaments,
And she sometimes leans so one could see her cleavage.
Maybe she can then make them take off?
She no longer unload herself toward the call of the forest;
Replace the string with a whip,
Because it’s the price to pay to isolate herself

At the top of her golden tower.


From the top of his three-masts, the sailor whistled without bitterness.
In the raging storm, all hope seemed to have drowned
Under the waves. And suddenly, a land stood out in the mist.
Him, sorry, misled, torn, could again deploy himself.

And from there, O possible mirage, he thought he had seen a peaceful shore.
Fear was transformed into waiting and relieved his young age.
The tumult exults the occult insult of an uncultivated sultan.
Is he under the yoke of a frenzy? He examines. As a result,
The continent stretches through his astounded globes. Is he betrayed?
What is this infamy which affects the affability of his being and curses it?

Provisional quest, assiduously derisory.
Exciting foil, atoning weir.
Shouldn’t he have drowned himself in the whirlwind of this torrent?
Has he not known this flooded region as a stammering chick?


A little bit of music to perfect the contours.
His heart opens itself perpetually to her as it’s her own.
It’s his, and he offers it without return on a detour.
But he often dies when she ran down other paths.

Let us join hands by indulging in as much time as possible,
Let us offer to each one by showing all the sorrow available.

O despair at the counter!
What is this burglar
Who mulls his ritornello?
The most beautiful creature of the Lord,
So prodigious, so marvelous,
Returns a black mirror.

What is this fear? Him, he only hates himself.
Sometimes he thinks they are more alike than she thinks;
Or is it his spirit that plays tricks on him, O love?
Time collapses and flows away from the crowd.
He’s just trying to live, and he wants her to be part of it.
Because if she’s gone; how can he find harmony?


Thus, he enters into meditation,
And begins the dynamic of creation.
Great sensitivity and compassion;
Thoughts and feelings through observations.

Introspection – Association
Structuring – Composition;
Introspection – Association
Structuration – Composition.

Extreme empathy exalts a shy cyclone.
Knotted, but incredibly quiet.
He suffers from it in face of the typical Cyclop:
All this is only a slight lull.

A magnifying glass intimately amplifying the ego,
Thanks to an ability to concentrate
Which surely reflect itself the evening
Because the peculiarity is aberration.

By prolonging, he confronts experiences.
Peace is rancid after a night of wandering;
Between the turbulence, he has no expectance.
Absence is pure ambivalence and purifies silence.


Since in the city there aren’t many people who cultivate their garden,
I wipe the vile Iliad as a sincere monster who pursues his purpose.
Rebel infantryman of a sad and nameless army who castigates the rascal.
Feline witness of a faded breeze in the shadow, which dazzles the ruler.

When I go outside, it’s always targeted.
I rarely go to places where they want my big banknotes.
Broken ego, terrorize, be oppressed, is beautiful who is.
When I sleep, my body is all crazy, yes it’s
True, nothing soft, you can see my fangs shine.
Equals valued, mold, laughing stock, being high, override, is beautiful who is.

To conform to the norm is to escape from life.
To condemn oneself to death is to get out of it.
Those who formed the standard are all horrible.
This idiot damned to death is even worse.

Otherwise get accustomed. Stop seeing blood clumping;
No more exchanges, to gather.
No longer seize chance, to struggle.
The meaning flows from my nose, I don’t have time to sleep.


Since I’ve been aiming at the sky, I no longer feel very well;
And when I look back, I see the path disappear.
I saw the old monkeys exclaim.
I have no more time to lose with these pious whores.

Since I’ve prayed the sky, I am more serene;
And when my grave will be underground, I think I would have win the Evil.
Know that it’s not sensational without Sartre.
I slap that because they don’t even think in the faculties.

Since I scream in the sky, I’m not going very well.
And when I sink deeper than the earth, I must abandon myself to destiny.
I make myself a reason, the majority of people are too stupid.
Just inaction’s kings, I go away from their prison.

Since I live in the sky, I’m more than good;
A simple look on Earth, and I see the morning escaping.
What must I sacrifice so I may go away?
I saw the Gods laughing for less than that.


I’m working on my forthcoming projects.
What are you doing here away from your master?
You can’t come here if you’re a traitor.
Maybe I can move from here through the window?
What am I doing here besides being?
What are you doing here pretending?

You embarrass me, I don’t
Want your dirt, I don’t
Want your bundles, I don’t
Want your shits.

I want, I want
I want wad
To be able to burn them all;
I don’t want to see the white sirens
Before I can shine.

I go to work without my big projects.
But what are you doing here near your master?
You can’t tumble down here if you’re a traitor.
Maybe I can move from here through the window?
What am I doing here pretending?
What are you doing here pretending?

You’re examining me, I don’t want
Your cyprin, I don’t want
Your son, I don’t want
Your piss.

You’re not old yet but you’re already bent.
Pass me the fire that makes’ em all burn.

Last Level

I have often preferred the playground to your classes and lessons.
It’s especially in high school that the curve was reversed to be honest.
On the pavement, I move with determination;
On the paper, I’m responsible for my creation.
I’ll be myself at any price,
With or without money, I’ve plenty of cravings.

I no longer count the positive disintegrations,
Now I want to live.
So I live my life facing you,
If you don’t understand my rhymes,
It’s that they bend your neck.
I kneeled in balance,
I oscillate between chasms and summits,
At the bottom, I get a taste of it before the big sleep.

I start dynamic because I master dynamite;
What didn’t you understand? I have empathy in my schoolbag
Tragoc gift because the path is n’t easy or comfortable
The cards are on the table, I run towards the target.

I found my own way alone,
I listened to my lonely little voice ;
I reached harmony,
Aware of my decisions
On a chosen hierarchy.
My experiences are intense, resentment increased,
Powerful perception, you didn’t believe it.
I have developed specific skills,
You’re disgusted by my magical perception,
Poetic, and tragic.

I’m struggling, but not with myself,
I only make my own cream.
They will remain in a primary integration
It will remain to me a bitter taste,
I’ll only have to make love to your mind,
Because there is no body here.