|
Two hands remain, |
|
Two eyes I've embraced. |
|
When confusion seems to have your face, |
|
It could be more simple to disfigure, |
|
And I'm sure, |
|
I'm sure that it will be the greatest pleasure. |
|
Look, |
|
This wall has no longer the same traits: |
|
Images take a shape when you turn them over. |
|
Here, |
|
Our refused smiles levitate in the air |
|
Like this chair with no legs. |
|
Acid clouds become our secret prompters. |
|
We'll enter this room |
|
Where noise walks solemnly, |
|
Words have precious trailings |
|
And glances are a blinding tune. |
|
Two hands remain, |
|
Two eyes I've embraced. |
