I was born in the desire of a false summer.
Child of silence conceived
before the harvest
which was just this look
meeting only eyes
that could not see ...
Did I have a name
or was I just what people think ?
Dear mother ,your arm was too heavy
with passing lovers, to carry me ...
You wore this distinguished boredom
of those princesses who read novels...
But I felt comfortable in the closet
with its sweet dust secrets and ball dresses,
I was often visited by benevolent spirits...
I\'ve learned the declensions of grown-up language
and understood the legends that put children to sleep.
Do you know gentle readers ?
Storks come in winter
and leave nothing under the fir tree ,
or only a fire water drop
which burns the heart ...
Maybe one day I\'ll become a father
I\'d have a daughter as happy as a lark !
And light as a swallow !
That I\'ll never really know ...
She\'ll fly away so fast like in a novel ...
Who can give me the instructions use
on how to be a good daddy ?