As the sun is cleaning up the shade, in a world walled Up by light, we give away our bodies of stone to the Atrophy of the world, the dream being disclosed in the Partition of the blood. Time coming out of the orgasm of a woman with no Ovaries makes her immune to our repletion. We thus fertilize the most mundane things by accident. By the edge of this wood circled by graves.. We walk under thick transitional foliage unaware of Our own dying. We split open, with our fingers made of light, the wall Of darkness excruciated by the coming up of a new born day. There are no angles to be found in this natural place, Where decaying corpses are the only ones which know How to multiply in their mineral sepulchers. By the edge of this wood circled by graves... As being covered with foliage in order to go by Unnoticed, we ourselves have turned into plants and, Although being male, we have given birth to beautiful children. Women had been turning arbore scents of this forest Full of desires. Little by little, as we were left alone in our own Bodies, we could only think but of our woes, it was Only on the way back to the house, which we used as a Shelter that the horizon was given to us as a body Lying in a dusty and crepuscular sky. We enjoyed our vanity for a moment before losing all hope again. The head of a child appears on the threshold, his face Over-plastered with clay is set on a skull of paper, he is The guardian of these places where memory passes like A breath, and leaves only but crumbs of time to those Who are still stranded on earth? “Child! Innocent as the elderberries, you alone still Gives a meaning to these things that you stroke but Only with your eyes...” Then going in our beds of dust we have fantasized our Dementia and the world; and thus the very coming of The night. The light, gleaned earlier by our dazzled eyes, turned Us into nyctalopes, while our thirst for knowledge did Erase our anger and our suspicions. By the edge of this wood circled by graves... We, human beings, by night and day, like the remains Of our sole ancestors, stay by the side of the child who Sleeps within ourselves, while imperceptibly, With time, we slowly fade away