By loving so much, I lost myself in the sea.  And what a sea!
A storm of laughter and tears.
If you climb aboard a ship be careful to look at the figurehead that
will gaze at you with an eye beaten away by the wave and salt water.
          But what am I saying?  The spectacles of love don’t interest me
very much.  All I want to be now is a sail blown by the pleasure of the 
monsoons toward unknown continents where I will find only one
person.  The one you already have a perfect name for.
          I undress, as an explorer lost on an island should and I stay
immobile as a figurehead.
          Hail to you, wind from afar and you, desert, and you,
forgetfulness.
          I’ll be forgotten.  Someday no one will know my name but I will
know hers.  One evening, naked in glory and rich, I will come back, I
will knock on her door, completely nude, but no one will answer, even
when, having opened the door, I’ll appear in her sight.
          I have grasped, at least, the meaning of perpetuity.  Not the
ridiculous one of cemetery plots.
          I wish in vain for imaginary guillotines, but can only offer the
blood-thirsty crowds my desire for suicide.
          Revolution!  You’ll only shine after my death on the immense
white marble block that will cover my immense corpse.
          France is a wasps’ nest, Europe a rotted field and the world a
peninsula of my awareness.
          But fortunately I still have the stars left, and the awareness of
my moral nobility opposed to the thousand obstacles the world sets
against my love.



"Tour Of The Tomb" um poema de Robert Desnos 


a 20.7.13
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