Sylvia Sharpentier

Come, come to my Eden
Where man prunes, woman waters 
Where petals skate on a creek like otters
Above a castle of clouds stirring and billowing
Bees are busy, on your lips fall honey, and 
I am swallowed by your lush invitation

In the Silence of feathery days, 
Meandering about like a train gliding over water by a quiet thorpe
My youth roars raw and uncharted
Seething the love in me as I muse over God's right to happiness
My habitual reverie, daydreaming at night

Stranger, drink your tea and make yourself comfortable

Smell me, remember my fragrance, my scenery
My childhood budded perfuming like clementines
Planted on the deck of my boat sailing for the greater
A young poet anchors lazily at the pink cloud soft like woman's skin.
How tenderly brushed, how lovely penciled, you little tragedy

Life is short, Art is forever
Embrace is a small roof where shadows of the two're enfolded 
Love is a small universe created by two hearts colliding like a hammer


World and you sleepless visionaries, 
Raise your glass, for today is yours 
Drink your glass, for life is ceremonious
My wondrous feet on this land fantastical!
   (car ta vie est empreinte de solennité!)

I walk angularly in this Cubist puzzle and muzzle 
My French coat flutters, I drop my mutters
Bamboozled fatalistically by this outré dazzle
The moon is a silver cradle, my lover's flutters