Audacity it is you who will console us least right here the animal alloy of muscle and voice in the rainy detonation of the day  under the  plus sign overflown by a squadron of petrels Thanks to the farmers who regale me with hatred painted on their faces days perch solely on the shoulders of women more than asleep Storm or rain the beaks that put me back between the hands of the scream will guide them laudably

Covered with fresh encephalon I rise already even faster     silence         like the bull under the maul         it is a kiss deriving lips         from our clogprints

(Translated from the French by A. James Arnold and Clayton Eshleman)