Lorenz

Camille

Camille ,your hand  working on the flesh of living stone 

the workbench  drawing  curves and meanders 

of your genius full of sensual  spasms ...

Camille,you were robbed, abused , stolen,

the master carving your  substance ,

making a volcan,his thing  of power ...

Camille you killed your soul in an orgasm of violence

that brings the human mire to life ...

 In your nake  womb the clay passion fading away .

Camille ,your silent shadow howls in a lime room

 where no mirror recognizes you ...

The solitude of the madman is cold as a marble of rain

whose memory no one flowers ..

  If I had known you,pretty Camille ,I would have offered you

a bunch of words that you would shaped into sand castles...

 Camille, in the new found gentleness of this spring 

of  fleeting loves let\'s go to the \'\'Café de Flore\'\'

 laughing at the philosophers in front of a cup of coffee

  and talking about recovered memory ...

    (Camille Claudel in memoriam)