A Bed of Books
It's comfortable like cresset
for incense
until everything is burnt
there is no luck
there is no smell
there is no sacred curiosity
the past is always naive
like yellowing photography of
missed good intentions
the present never harder time
just to survive
to the first future
until the first turn into a dream
in this bed
we cover ourselves with soft covers
we embrace the pillow in which
pleated naughty stories rustle
--tr. Danijela Trajković
La Liseuse de Romans (The Reader of Novels) -- Antoine Wiertz
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