Effacement of the poplar

The hurricane undoes the wood.

I tuck in thunder with eyes tender.

Let the big wind where I tremble

Be one with earth where I grow for good.

Its breath hones my lookout fine.

How murky is the trap’s void space

From the source to soiled diapers!

A key will be my dwellingplace,

Feint of flame the heart prefers;

And air which holds it in its claws.

René Char