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At the palace of worms
We are going towards the worms
Towards all those who have meaning in the broad sense
Without however ceasing to praise us, and to enchant
And here we are at the palace of verses without reverse
Palace of your non-ugly legacies
Name of your fragrant names
And smoking the sweet sensation of our ills
We cherish evils without words
But beautiful clothes in leases are the lease!
Evils in lease, people yawn misery
But the words are lost, the senses awaken.
In the palace of worms,
Towards an ageless journey,
We are going towards the worms
Without falling into darkness
Without however wanting to put
Under the pot, the candlestick of words
And here we are at the palace of worms
Ugly palace of our unsettled rules
Let’s speak freely, far from our ornate standards
Who still wants to asphyxiate the Muse
Ah the Muse, museum of our amusements
And fortunately with a club
A dwarf is born!
Dwarf whose hands and mind are illuminated
Flood humanity with white-haired stars!
And on these canvases of our roofs
Shut up and quickly open your teeth
Because in the palace of worms
Broken glasses still quench the thirst
So many glasses on our tables surrounded by good people
And there is no reverse in the midst of our common efforts
What joy for you and no anguish!
Because at the palace of worms the Muse delights you.
Poem taken from the collection ONDES CIVIQUES by Sunday Alexis KLOUE
