She stands upon my eyelids
And her hair is in my hair,
She has the shape of my hands,
She has the color of my eyes,
And she is swallowed by my shadow
Like a stone against the sky.
Her keeps her eyes open all of the time
And she will never allow me to sleep.
Her dreams in broad daylight
Make the suns evaporate
Make me laugh, cry, and laugh,
Make me speak when I have nothing to say.
Translated from French by Paul Weinfield, © 2016