She, alone, at the window
Full moon
On the street shapes and lights
sleep on the asphalt
On the other side ,
He yawns roundly and heartily.

The shadows awake
And wave
then carry on their sleep
with the eyes, the lips, the nose.


These unjust shapes
Jump from their sleep just like rabbits

Silence
She recalls
At the window full moon
Some stars blinking behind
He recalls…

Morning
In hand holding a silk hat
The rabbits sitting on the asphalt are learning the way home
The moon lets down her smile beyond the room

Suddenly, the room becomes so pale
In front of her fifty jonquils
“Why are you smiling? I am not your sun” she says
meanwhile changing herself into the queen of the night.

They left. Now she is playing
Thinking she is the moon
Further she is the only daughter of the shadows
Of the shapes drawn on the asphalt.

He looks at her hidden behind the jonquils
She, not round, rabbit nor just, is amazed:
“You came once more?”
“No , this is the first. Fifty of them”
“Yes, this I know, I counted. You came once more”