I hear that the sâcré vent blows
Superior, with sibylline reason.
Somewhere between Siberia
And Ménerbes, a love affair
Of the two points seethes so
Rifely, the people can feel it.
From one phantom soul to its distant other:
"I am an expanse of sapped land. There exists
Merely imminent disaster that could bring
Us together. If only, if only, reveal yourself
To me and I will learn to touch you from
A distance."
Somewhere between Siberia
And Ménerbes, the earth flattens.
"I see you. Of all the people that have
Tramped my streets prospering off
The throbbing currency of mine ardor,
Of all the nimbus that I have worn on
My head like a crown, of all the exquisite
Cairn erected in my honor, I have never
Known a face so deific and true.
Govern me by your seasons.
Let us grow decrepit and crumble
At once. Let our people die and our
Memories perish so that we may
End our lives in dust face down on
A crusty earth that crackles with
The madness of our thoughts."
Somewhere between Siberia
And Ménerbes, the flat earth
Enables the wind to take route South,
The sâcré vent is born.
