Translated from French by Eponine Howarth.

Absence is always
In the gaze
Of the heart
That loves

*

To choose is to let die
What we would have liked to keep
It is to accept condemning
A piece of one’s heart
Where we would nevertheless have been happy

*

Splashed with all the love I have received
Once the moment has passed
I return to my cave
In the distance and
Go back to my solitary life
For a long time I resented the heavens
And the earth
Then I realised that
This gave me reason
To appreciate these moments
And to cherish their fleeting preciousness