à chaque approche de                chaque saison
je me reproche de ne pas           être dans le pays qui m’a vu naître
les saisons me rappellent le      cercle infini de sa beauté éphémère
quand je me trouve dans           l'hémisphère inversé
comme miroir antithétique       de ma terre originelle
un jour, comme parfois              j'y retournerai pour adoucir mes souvenirs

les feuilles jaunâtres et orangées qui s'entassent naturellement près des trottoirs
les premiers flocons de neige de la saison qui embellissent les monuments historiques
les températures qui accompagnent nos paroles de condensation
les chaudes journées d'avril qui réchauffent le cœur et nos idéaux
celles qui nous font ressortir les t-shirts à manches courtes et
les premières brûlures de soleil
les feux de cheminée dans la maison qui m'a vu grandir et partir

mes amis sédentaires et mes amours laissés derrière
le visage, le sourire, la bienveillance de ma mère
les discours de mon père m'expliquant que
le sud, c'est mieux
les métros et les RER
les sapins dits de Noël que sans trop savoir pourquoi nous continuons de vêtir
croissants et raclette, les plats de ma grand-mère
les musées et les parcs de la ville lumière
les vacances à la mer
bien que ce soit un océan
bouteilles de vin et savoureuses bières
bref, ma terre qui pour toujours me sera chère

you liked art, photography and poetry
silence and calm music that makes you blue
breathed slowly and felt
deeply conflicted with the outside world
i should have known better —
your melancholy would be as palpable as
mine,
to love you would deepen my own sorrows
like endlessly falling together into sadness and depression

with nothing to hold on to but each other
sweet demons.
poisonous intentions

In the Outback I walk and the words fade away.
Because my words are only weak and my emotions compelling.

I follow my own road to the Absolute
Connected to the Earth, I sleep on its soil
Connected to the Stars, I sleep beneath
Connected to the Planet, I am a small but complete part of it.

I feel transcended. Words are powerless but I speak and write.
I meet Enchanters and Enchantresses.
But also Sorcerers and Sorceresses.
They live in such suffocating ways when the answer is Out there.

I am an Alien in a world of migrants
I am an Outlander and yet I, embrace the land

Words are Wrong. Words are Wrong.
When my emotions deepen into my Self.
I want to explain but I am unable

And Silence is my Emperor, Tears my Empress
Because my Tears Speak louder than my Words.
My eyes are shut and my face a Stone
My tears shed abundantly, they roll down my cheeks
Fall down to the ground, fall down to the Earth
And I grow, extend my vision.
Spread my Wisdom and share my Trust

I am sorrowful when I understand that they don’t understand
Because they live a Lie and therefore my sorrow is profound
I walk among Them and around me there are towers that are noisy
Screens that are too bright
I look around and they walk fast to the Nowhere disguised as a Destination
A Destiny, a Fate. Death.
I hear them whispering and their words and sentences are blaring
They want to be heard, they want to be seen, they want to leave something behind
But they destroy.

And I face the fact. Because I don’t hide and bury the Truth
But I leave for the Outback and I walk
The snakes are hissing but they are less dangerous than the established societies
When they attack and release their precious venom, you know
But people in cities die slowly and quietly.
Their breath is taken away discreetly
The Planet cries because of them and they complain because they drown
And I, try to keep my head afloat

So this is my ultimate transcendence.
I give my last Words to Wayne before I continue my travels
I see the faces of the persons who helped me
I see the faces of the persons that I have loved.
There is plenty of them.
I wish I can confide in them about my deepest emotions but I am unable
They would have to penetrate my Self.
Which is impossible.

I do not want to share who I am since the parts of me that I can share are inaccurate.
Sharing is often vain.
So I give in to Nature, the Absolute, Me
I do not need Words if I do not know how to use them
I can not sing them, I can not write them as I wish I could
Why that?
Because I only feel them. I sense them. The emotions.
They are given to me unexplained
And I, can not interpret them to express them to someone who did not feel them.
That’s why I’m an Foreigner, an Outsider
And my relations are a bias.
Distorted because I give a Name to sensations that are nameless

Therefore I do not define.
I wander, with inaudible footsteps and presence
I see, hear and observe as if I had no tongue
As if I was a ghost.

As if I was a ghost.

Je m'endors bercé par la douceur de la mer noire
Provocatrice
Après les tempêtes et le déluge
Le chaos des vagues déferlantes
Dévastatrices
Et pourtant,
Apaisantes
Qu'est-ce que la nuit me réserve ?

Les deux veulent le meilleur l'une pour l'autre,
mais apparaissent incapables de se l'offrir.

Je demande, pourquoi ?

⥌

The two of them want the best for one another,
and yet appear incapable to offer it to each other.

I ask, why?

bring me with you to murmansk
see the silence of the stars in the warmth of your heart.
see the lakes through your eyes i
desire to see the lakes through your eyes
amongst the high and centenary pine trees
and a purple sky
—
feel the coffee on the tip of your lips
after a calm night would come a calm morning
calm spirits, not a word
not a word i
desire to be with you and use silent words only
read poetry silently next to you, in the bed
see the night falling over and over, endlessly
from the balcony, facing the shore
i ask nothing more than a life a seclusion
where there's no seconds but a whole
and it's abundant, like a waterfall
—
yours,
i don't want to be yours but you
we are One. the nature, you and i
one entity of quietness
the earth could take us, so could the sky
you are my northern light
i love you
i love you
я тебя люблю
—
the peace inside you i
desire the melancholy inside you
and what if we'd die tonight with the sunset
yet we have years to live, we found each other
in an absolute absence of words
because i lived fast and i desire to die slowly
rest isolated in the depth of your heart
where i would forever watch the moon shine
over the relief of the steppes
—
allow me this, this one last romance
live in our own reality.
sleeping, eating, walking, reading, writing
observing the creations, sensing our presence
our bodies One against the other

because what would be left to us now?

other than simply;
love each other genuinely?

we're all leaving
we're all leaving — but before

please, bring me with you to murmansk

Almaty has the most beautiful shades of green
        i have ever seen across the globe
Look at the Tian Shan mountains
        its emerald lakes and pine trees and
Dare to tell me that you won't want to spend the rest of
        your days here.
        sipping tea, in Almaty.

I ran out of ink while trying to phrase how much I love you
That I scribbled the remains of my emotions with my blood
I emptied the veins of my body to write words you'll never read
Next to folded letters that will never be posted

Haven't you read the thorns of my poems?
They're like someone begging for help in the middle of a sea storm
Like the chaos of a breaching whale on the coast
And the silence of an earthquake beneath the ocean

Nous partons si **** pour nous rendre compte qu'en réalité,
Tout était sous nos yeux, là, à portée de main
Or, il nous aura fallu traverser les frontières tracées sur les cartes
Nous estomper là-haut dans le ciel, observer les reliefs
Parcourir les continents en y laissant des parcelles de nos
cœurs, âmes, ongles, de nous
Que nous finissons par en apprendre un peu plus sur nous
Apprendre que nous ne nous comprenons pas et ;
Comprendre que nous ne nous comprendrons pas

Comme dépourvu d'identité réelle

Vivre plusieurs vies en une vie, mais n'en posséder aucune réellement
Et si, à la fin, tout ce que nous recherchions était d'être avec
lui, elle, eux, nous
Nous voulons toujours plus et voilà que nous nous retrouvons avec
les mains sales et vides, ainsi que le cœur en ruine,
le foie abîmé, les poumons noirs endommagés,
notre capacité d'aimer devenue limitée mais
une soif de tendresse pourtant incontrôlée
Nous devenons des bouteilles jetées à la mer
Par nous-mêmes, scellées, comme des fragments de nous, noyés

Qui aurait bien pu deviner ? Que nous deviendrions
des étrangers à l'étranger ?

Ma poésie n'est certainement pas écrite pour
être lue en état de sobriété
plutôt torché
les joues trempées de larmes
ou après avoir joui

Car, qu'allez-vous réaliser en lisant mes maux ?
Si vous faites preuve de tant de lucidité ?

Évadons-nous ! À chacun son stupéfiant.
Le breuvage, le tabac, l’alimentation,
La procrastination, le yoga, les corps…
Et écrivons.

Il restera ça, au moins.