pensée lointaine distant thought

 



distant thought

I touche the distance


I opened it on paper

the designs

from my distraction

all of them without damage


It was that left me


who own something

it is like a fragile  image

does not is available


before do I the work

the border of the lines

the marks cannot be seen.


the process no longer exists

the past collection

is lost

it encountered

and nonpresent


pensée lointaine

j'ai touché la distance


J'ai ouvert sur papier les dessins de ma distraction

le tout sans dommage

c'était ce qui m'a laissé


qui possède quelque chose

c'est comme l'image fragile

pas disponible


avant de fait l'ouvrage

les barrières de lignes

derrière les images construites


le processus n'existe pas

les marques ne peut pas être vue

la collection du passé est perdue

trouvé et non présent


I am someone who came from a place that never was. River water, calm lakes, waterfalls, edges where bushes and trees grow, the open field, the sky reflected in my hands in the trembling mirror of the river, the waits I am, this man lying in the river in the middle of autumn of my existence, loves his children, he likes to be alone, and he has a great company. I leave out the conceptual groups that put their finger on the face and follow fashion. I try not to be like that. In this boat, I am also the water where I sail. I take the sky with me, the fields, the flowers, and the fragrant herbs all my mornings. I am a being of the dawn. The scandal of nature in the voice of a bird, the incessant hum of the bells that insects make. I look like it, but I am not afraid of anything. I do not think I ever was. Indeed, my father, especially my mother, sweetly led me to read and write. I am always primary; I am still learning to read and write, row, and let the boat go safely. pmnt

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