Joë Bousquet (French: [buskɛ]; 19 March 1897 – 28 September 1950) was a French poet.
An immense body, encircling my delirium, a body made of wind and sunlight, crouching and stretching, encompassed the existence of the slightest human echo.
Now the night's breath responds to the sea, which I can scarcely hear from here, as it reminisces about its shipwrecks.
I gazed upon the earth and saw that a body, in its tender faithlessness, had located it in the sky. A splendid scarf of blood, looming above the abyss.
My wound existed before me; I was born to embody it.
A star shoots bleeding across the skyline, a companion to the black wind. Silence comes sweeping across everything.
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