From The Feast Of Kisses Poem by Michel Galiana

Since on our night a voice sometimes swells and then fades,
To drown it we'll invent a still louder silence
So that the vintager who's in charge of the graves
In the mud of our days may find no repentance.

We shall have slept enough, from caresses exiles,
After the same silence has extinguished our cries.
And long shall be the night, hard the stone. On your wise
Side, allow your lover to forget that he dies.

On your bent lips whither attracts me your desire,
I'll exorcise the chasm that is lying in wait.
Be the calm torturer, be the placid vampire,
The rack on which bodies are stretched out and are bent.

On your brow that your hair like sargasso covers,
On your panting bosom that sobs swell and retain,
Let me the sailor be whom adventure elates,
Whose ship still more furrows his desire than the main.

(O ship, slowly you roam and your holds are but traps
Where the rowers' chanty, the swing of the hammocks,
The relieving slumber, the beat in which I'm rapt
Intensify the roll, disregarding my masts) .

But peacefully lying, side by side, now dreamless,
We'll sail along the night, without fray, aimlessly,
Happy to have stolen from the god who haunts us
And gnaws at us, a while, mysterious robbery.

We'll sail along the night, O my sweet accomplice,
Like two swans whose entangled voices are merging,
Who twist their necks into appropriate curves
That have the appearance of the woods and the springs.

Behold the pallid dawn gleaming through the window!
Every breath of the wind shifts us toward the berth.
Bells are drowning our feast in their muffled billow.
Presently a new day. Presently a new death!

Let your fear be quietened, your torturers dismissed.
Even almighty gods yield to wide opened eyes.
The night which over us flows like limpid liquid
With a leaden wave will enclose our universe.