A soul reads my poems,
I could not imagine so far away to be heard,
Who’s she ?
Tell me only if joyful is your life
and why, why souls wear child’s jewels.
A computer reads all I do,
only to spy on me,
what I am, what I drink,
I’m just drinking a glass of my orange wine,
so fine he cannot understand what I feel,
un bon vin d’orange maison
and in my brain a flower to her,
this too, he cannot analyze.