Remember what you saw, my soul, that summer morning
so sweet:
to a path around a carcass on a bed infamous
strewn with pebbles,
with bare legs as lustful woman, Burning and sweating
poisons opened in a careless and cynical
her belly full of fumes.
The sun shone on this rot,
to cook at your point, and return
hundredfold to great Nature
everything that once had together;
and the sky looked like the beautiful flower skeleton
opens.
So strong was the stench that you, in the grass
believed faint.
flies buzzed over this putrid belly
which came out black battalions of larvae
flowed like a thick liquid
by those living tatters.
Everything fell and rose like a wave or throwing sparkling
had said that the body, swollen by a breath vague
lived and multiplied.
And the world produced a strange music
as running water and wind
or winnowed grain a rhythmic motion and turns stirring
your screen.
The shapes were erased and not a dream, a sketch
slow to appear on the web
forgotten, and that the artist has just
only memory.
Behind the rocks a restless dog
looked at us with angry eyes,
spying when back in the skeleton
the piece that was loose.
And yet, you'll like this crap,
this horrible infection, Star
my eyes, sun of my nature,
you, my angel and my passion!
Yes! may you be, oh queen of graces,
after the last rites,
when you go under the grass and the fertile blooms,
to rust between the bones.
Then, O my beauty, tell
worms eat you with kisses,
I've saved the form and
divine essence Of my decomposed loves!
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