Œuvres ouvertes

Seneca

...

Oh chariot of insect
Oh crown of wind
Two royal leopards run with him
On a golden lead of tapered vine
Oh the blood sky, oh the blood sky
Vine of a god running wild
Oh golden seed who made the winged child

Run, run my little one
Run out to sea
Run, run my little one
What do you seek ?

The canvas is high
The scheme of a life
Written in the wind
The pen, the knife

Run my little one
Breathe a hymn
Breathe my little one
A hymn to him
To him

The master is calling, calling
The canvas is high
The scheme of a life
Written in the wind
The pen, the knife

Run, run out to sea
Run my little one
What do you seek ?

If you were his eyes
If you were his dreams
The whole of the sky could not contain you
So run, run, run out to sea
Run my little one
Breathe a hymn for him
For thee

© Laurent Margantin _ 13 août 2012