Winter is my land

I was  walking all along  Sainte-Catherine,

alone at the heart  of winter .

Everything was white in the middle of a blank,

the wizzard  whipping  my face ...

Montreal ,frozen mother  incarnated 

and the Saint-Laurent ,ocean of rock-hard waves...

Beneath the metro's  mazes , hell's womb  ,

the city flesh was pulsating ,

indecent with heat and ease ,

contemptuous of the solitary  wanderer ,

madman in search of some petrified truth ...

I didn't  want to give in to solar temptations...

My skin shivering as if seized by a sacred chill,

 soul clad in steel armor ...

Montreal's  fading towers ,

walls powdery fireworks ,

Sainte-Catherine,polar steppe of emptiness,

eagle,bear and wolf  my guides ...

This day  the town sends me its night 

in daylight  hours  and the silence

of its  transparent ghosts ,

forever prisoners of an  evil  princess ...

 I am the urban  shaman ,

  winter is my land ...