Single

"Sir, I Used to Love U with No Limits , Take U in Every Evening to the City of My Dreams .. & U Sir, was the Last to know ! .. ...MaybeI was an Unrealistic Woman , who takes Care of the Most Silly DetailsOf the Romantic Love , Who was a Little Girl Clapping Happily when Isee U , Who Was a Teen-Girl Shaking Shyly when I walk Next to U .. But,I was Something Bigger , Something More mature than U .. That'sHow I Loved U , with My Own Different Way .. My Crazy Way .. MyUnlimited Attracted Way .. I used to Miss U , when I see U .. &When I Miss U, I search for U .. when I Can't Find U, I Get Angry On U.. when I Get Angry On U , I Punish U between Me & Myself .. IUsed to Make Sure - ALL Sure - That U Appear in My Poems .. So U CanRead Yourself through Me .. U were the First One to Read .. the FirstNOT to Understand .. the First NOT to Feel .. & the Last To Clapfor Me !!Last Night ... I was Free , My Mind Started the Revolution .. Against My Old Cold Life with U .. Don'tGet Mad Sir ! .. it was a MUST thing to Exile U Away from My Soul .. IDon't Understand the Language of Stupidity .. & I Can't Stand aStupid Man to be the King of My Heart .. Ur Loved Queen .. "

Elle

لم أعد قادراً على حبس اسمكِ في حلقي . لم أعد قادراً على حبسكِ في داخلي مدةأطول . ماذا تفعل الوردة بعطرها ؟ أين تذهب الحقول بسنابلها ، والطاووس بذيله ، والقنديل بزيته ؟ أين أذهب بكِ ؟ أين أخفيكِ ؟ والناس يرونك في إشارات يدي ، في نبرة صوتي ، في إيقاع خطواتي

Here

Here, i feel safe

here is you

here i learned to bow for you

and raise my head

here you cant walk away

here you cant but listen to me

here,you can enjoy tears you find

shedding them for you

romantic

here, cast all your sadism

here, you can write on my skin

here loves you

here, you are the lunatic poet

here i have you

here you said it cant be anywhere else

here, is where my daily bread grow

every evening.

here, when its done

the territory shall be

occupied like other places

like Jupiter and New York

Tu es mon

Objet Petit a.

and i thought that not thinking of you will make me stop thinking of you

أنت الزهد وأنا الدنيا

"Pauvre lune, Elle a l'air s'ennuyer, la haut. Lucien decide alors de lui jouer un petit air de trompette. Mais les notes de musique ne grimpent pas jusqu'a la lune. "Lucien, et si tu essayais de souffler un peu plus fort?" "

Lucien, le pingouin musicien
jean-marc Mathis