Often you say making a mark in the earth with your heel at the wild rose blooms in a bushWild one seemingly made only of dew
You say The whole sea and the whole sky for a single
Victory of childhood in the country of dance or better for a single
Embrace in a train corridor
Going to the devil with rifle shots on a bridge or better
Yet for a single timorous word
Such as must be said while gazing at you
By a blood-stained man whose name goes far from tree to tree
Who keeps going in and out among a hundred birds of snow
Where then it is nice
And when you say it the whole sea and the whole sky
Scatter like a cloud of little girls in the yard of a strict boarding school
After a dictation in which The heart takes
Was perhaps written The heart aches
~Andre Breton
