No need to set foot on Italian soil,
A look of an evening brings me joy.
Just a vision, a moment and an haïku.
To transcend all in you.
My breath is suddenly hard
I then cling to what comes:
A wall, a sheet, my forehead
A bottom of a glass.
Sources :
moundarren.com/livre/le-peintre-et-le-poete/
franceculture.fr/emissions/lsd-la-serie-documentaire/variations-sur-la-beaute-4-le-syndrome-de-stendhal