Audacity it is you who will console us least
right here the animal alloy of muscle and voice in the rainy detonation of the day
 under the  plus sign overflown by a squadron of petrels
Thanks to the farmers who regale me with hatred painted on their faces
days perch solely on the shoulders of women more than asleep
Storm or rain
the beaks that put me back between the hands of the scream
will guide them laudably

Covered with fresh encephalon
I rise already even faster
    silence
        like the bull under the maul
        it is a kiss deriving lips
        from our clogprints

(Translated from the French by A. James Arnold and Clayton Eshleman)