Escape from this ugly rented house

Escape from this ugly rented house,

Its furniture worn out

from goodness knows by which sordid hands,

from the dirty walls

witnesses of disgusting

crimes of bugs,

from the torn armchair

where you never want to stop

and rest.

Immediately leave this place.

In you home, under the water,

in the foam and the vapour

you’ll wash away the memory,

you’ll comb perfumed hair,

you’ll wrap your waist,

your sides,

in a flower dress,

in ballerina shoes,

in order to get out among people,

in the fresh evenings,

at the end of summer.

July 3, 2006