In the early morning
The sky cries loudly.
It calms down then rumbles.
All night long, it was sunny.
I think of you in the dazzling
And sulphurous mooing of the demented early morning.
I would like you to listen to this so cold song of the sea.
The night birds sing but the torrents grind.
I see gold in your infernal eyes.
The wind of the sky sweeps me;
I tremble like a weaned leaf.
Do you hear the noise of the door
That opens and closes itself
In my silence and your deep sleep?
Can you see? Everything vibrates around me;
And still I hear the sighs of winter
And the mute moans of my bones.
I am faggot in my loneliness.
My heart is the tornado…
I can sleep but I would not like to suffer
from your heart and my heart
And of the hearts of my hearts
And of the heart of life
And of the heart of the world.
It rains in my entrails.
The cackles of my loneliness are crumbling me
And my fingers drool like the sky.
And here the lightnings which, in your eyes,
Interrupt, suddenly, the incantations of God,
And betray the secrets of the night
And the din of my silent words,
In the early morning of midnight.
Armel J. Ngamaleu