Sylvius, your hands near my mouth are heady flowers that intoxicate me, and I take your strong fingers between my teeth like the alder branches that, laughing, I break.
But you disdain this childish game that leaves no traces, and shake your head.
If you only knew how I would like to bite into your heart and drink your life very very slowly, without raising my head.
French, trans. Cassia Berman
Marguerite Burnat-Provins, French, trans. Cassia Berman.