Words

He lets me listen, when he moves me,

Words are not like other

He takes me, from under my

He plants me, in a distant

And the black rain in my

Falls in torrents,

He carries me with him, he carries

To an evening of perfumed

And I am like a child in his

Like a feather carried by the

He carries for me seven moons in his handsand a bundle of

He gives me sun, he gives me summerand flocks of

He tells me that I am his

And that I am equal to thousands of

And that I am treasure, and that I ammore beautiful than he has seen of

He tells me things that make me dizzythat make me forget the dance and the

Words…which overturn my historywhich make me a woman…in

He builds castles of fantasieswhich I live in…for seconds…And I return…I return to my

Nothing with me…Nothing with me…except words