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She listens to the flowers grow
Amid the noise of the engines
With rainwater
And the scent of incense
She travels from time to time
She never heard anything
Dogs barking in the street
She makes French toast
Every day at four o'clock
She lives her life in color
She collects
The smells of autumn
And twigs of dead wood
When winter comes
She closes her books
And then gently
She falls asleep on wool carpets
Among Indian dolls
On down wings
From her two white pigeons
Until the first days of spring
She says that she is going to
Around the earth
That she will be back for ®ner
The fragile moments
The useless words
She knows all that
When she listens to the flowers growing
Amid the noise of the engines
When the others lose their temper
When I manage to escape
It's at her place that I go to sleep
And it's true that
I'm afraid of giving him a child