Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Jacques Bertin - The love (making)


Original Title : "L'amour"
Year: 1968
Your belly where warmth spreads in a bench, velvet
settles itself to the brightness of my caresses
opens itself like a big fear
like a word under the sun
where would dry oriflammes
And your silent lips
that opens like chased water

At your waist, I place my lip like a cross on the horizon
My fist sinks in this silt
breath where your weakness dreams
Your breasts are going to drink at the river
between two flower beds
Of your thighs, thrown, tear
at the brambles the pleasure, the fear

Nude girl, brightened up girl
Unwinded ribbon and so beautiful
Feminine god wild and young
Supple, grace, linen and gardens
and who floats among the tulles
In the nylons and the basins
Reared up woman, rebellious woman
Quivering and the dragonflies

Only I know the tenderness
the palm layed, the sweetness
The embrace religious and well-behaved
The patience with heaviness

Only I know the insolence
and your shoulder with a golden laugh
and only I know the curve of your back with your modesty

O my wandering feline
Opened vegetale bowl
talking about space and vengeance
Spread woman, devout woman

Beauty who pants and learns
You didn't know yourself so beautiful
In your silences, your wetnesses
I'll force the oath from you

Run ! Go spread this kiss,
this rape at your scalding nape
on the benches, in the running water
and in the herbs of the salt-meadows

I penetrate the vague universe
the eternal sleep disturbed
of this estate between your legs
where flowers shiver by thousand

The heat swaying, dieing
the fever, the liana, the lip
leprosy, tide, cluster, my wife
wet from saliva and odors

Barely half-opened, glimpsed
Barely woken up a moment
This long scream of surrendered woman
where u shout your name so loudly

Love is like my journeys
With the pleasurable detours
and the city in the evening discovered
crouched, below near the bridges

The silence with the sleep,
A world where my evasive hand
looks for the last steams,
rocks the oblivion on which you get drunk

Oh my love, sleep languid
Your breasts are made drowsy in the air
and in the hems of love
Sink into the fervor

And I, I'm looking at the daylight.

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