The Voice of Robert Desnos

    So like a flower and a current of air

    the flow of water fleeting shadows

    the smile glimpsed at midnight this excellent evening

    so like every joy and every sadness

    it is the midnight past lifting its naked body above belfries and poplars

    I call to me those lost in the fields

    old skeletons young oaks cut down

    scraps of cloth rotting on the ground and linen drying in farm country

    I call tornadoes and hurricanes

    storms typhoons cyclones

    tidal waves earthquakes

    I call the smoke of volcanoes and the smoke of cigarettes

    the rings of smoke from expensive cigars

    I call lovers and loved ones

    I call the living and the dead

    I call gravediggers I call assassins

    I call hangmen pilots bricklayers architects assassins

    I call the flesh

    I call the one I love

    I call the one I love

    I call the one I love

    the jubilant midnight unfolds its satin wings and perches on my bed

    the belfries and the poplars bend to my wish

    the former collapse the latter bow down

    those lost in the fields are found in finding me

    the old skeletons are revived by my voice

    the young oaks cut down are covered with foliage

    the scraps of cloth rotting on the ground and in the earth

    snap to at the sound of my voice like a flag of rebellion

    the linen drying in farm country clothes adorable women

    whom I do not adore

    who come to me

    obeying my voice， adoring

    tornadoes revolve in my mouth

    hurricanes if it is possible redden my lips

    storms roar at my feet

    typhoons if it is possible ruffle me

    I get drunken kisses from the cyclones

    the tidal waves come to die at my feet

    the earthquakes do not shake me but fade completely at my command

    the smoke of volcanoes clothes me with its vapors

    and the smoke of cigarettes perfumes me

    and the rings of cigar smoke crown me

    loves and love so long hunted find refuge in me

    lovers listen to my voice

    the living and the dead yield to me and salute me

    the former coldly the latter warmly

    the gravediggers abandon the hardly-dug graves

    and declare that I alone may command their nightly work

    the assassins greet me

    the hangmen invoke the revolution

    invoke my voice invoke my name

    the pilots are guided by my eyes

    the bricklayers are dizzied listening to me

    the architects leave for the desert

    the assassins bless me

    flesh trembles when I call

    the one I love is not listening

    the one I love does not hear

    the one I love does not answer.