I.
The shiver of a day
doesn’t yet know itself.
I was near the window
and the window was open.
The daylight fading very fast
should be surprising.
A cry “give me a glass
of water” rose up in me.
Perhaps I was holding
the outcome in my hands.
As I drank I became
aware that the water
was late and it didn’t
get along with my thirst.
II.
These hours go by
without touching
and they ignore me
after knowing me.
The memory of
my arrival had no place
behind these walls.
For me this room
was the world with its bed
in the middle.
As though I had not been
touched at this moment
but centuries ago,
that my life was taking place
somewhere else
but turning faster and faster
in a furious vertigo.
In order to obey this
uncertainty I got up.
I didn’t have the impression
I was walking.
All the quiet noises
attacking the thickness
of the night
I didn’t want to turn towards.
I didn’t make much noise.
III.
In the emptiness of the air
I heard the distinct sound
of something opening
and closing.
A man who is moving
towards the day?
Was the day trying
to show itself?
The morning burns.
Such a narrow light
so irresolute and detached
leaving room
for what was essential.
I would sometimes stare
through the window
for a long time
at those beams
supporting the entrance
but I was struck by a cloud.
I had to adjust
to the different air
at the end of morning.
