|I received your gift.
The sharing. The poem. The
translation. The words. The meaning. The
love. The message. All.
I read the poem . . . word . . . by . . . word . . .
again. And again. And again.
Assembling the words in one continuous line . . . slow the
reading down . . .
Each word chosen so carefully . . . I create a scroll.
There remains a poem.
There remains Baudelaire.
Now all together. Inseparable.
Let loose in a continuous pile and captured in a glass
See an empty room. A stone wall carved with the words.
In the middle, a pile of words.
Something gained. My gift to you.
The Translated La Voix Poem by Baudelaire