Le croquis

You are a color of your own
That even painters do not know
A variety of sunflower
That grows in winter, in the cold
You make the mimosa gladiolus
And the gladiolus go crazy
To be smiled at in the face
Every time I think of you
You are the word that no one knows
That poets search for in the forest
You are the verb in the past perfect
You are the sun of May
You are the pepper with a taste of cinnamon
The chili with the flavor of honey
The article that can't be found on the shelf
The one whose name is not even known

You are the unreal, the immortal
The timeless factual
Complete mythology
Born from a burst dream
I sketch you on blank pages
In the image of my nights
And I tattoo on your hips
The address of my desires
You are the rain on a holiday
The one that keeps me from going out
When you flow in my valleys
It's my torrents that sweat

You are the cold of February
The one that blues my landscapes
When my ponds are frozen
I swim across them
To find you on the run
In a burrow, a cathedral
I would gladly become an astronaut
To reach you in the stars
Like a walking tightrope walker
Soldier of the Hundred Years' War
You are the moon I would like to take down
To make a ring or a necklace
Like a pyromaniac fire breather

I will set fire to the volcanoes
So that the heat bothers you
And makes you sweat slowly
I will collect you in drops
That we will take for dew
On the sweet fruits of August
That I will watch grow
I will make you a bouquet of feathers
Fireworks that nothing ignites
And we will crush customs
Between the hammer and the anvil
I will invent nicknames for you
Every minute of the day
That I will keep secret
Written on a crumpled paper
The same one I scribble during the nights

Those nights that turn into years
The ones that could have been so pretty
If you had finally arrived
Arrived from another life
From another Father from another time
From a timeless galaxy
Where sketches come to life