samedi 29 avril 2017

The Hermit, Cobra mangeant l'oiseau du matin

The hermit


Queene of faeries had a fever

one knight of the woods had it seen

and the tears for the queene were abondant

hearing the music of deep whispers

there at the bed of grass

and him in the smoking window

given in a crowd of castles and hard temples.

Nothing was deadly this time

cleaned by tears the moon was giving a cut of sun

greater portraits promising to night

so the knight was in contemplation of queene's sleep.

Travelling to the tropics of triolism

even by head

made them queene and servant

loose all force not strong enough to break the chains of this new monster

wich is announced by an innocent fever

and whose face is void.

His helmet was a masterpiece

of dancing hammers of devil.

His name was Useful, and the servant prefered nudity without target.

Awake adored queene and restored

in coolness of mind by the travel on the moon

be careful of this monster dishaped

and cloudy, put your golden helmet and take your arrow.

Prepared to attain remote hearts this wheapon of female

goddesses is given to your fight, wich is prompt to come from fever.

You are no more in the land of southern, to believe in sirens,

be yourself supernatural in the appropriate battle.

This strange destiny of taking part in the supper of giants and cyclops,

scared by their panther speaking, this destiny who has made you my queene.

This night where every servant has disappeared like melting snow.

Which battle is this that hurts as tough as madness ?

Seemingly this giants are linked by panthereness to the enemy.

Seemingly travel to tropics has made you

desired by sun and sun is in its tropic an unshaped monster.


( the following track is a poetic performance in Paris by Juliette Bagouet et Manuel Montero )

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