Life Number Nine

Tentative de traduction / re-interprétation du dernier en date (et oui parfois j'ai vraiment rien à faire...).

To open valves and let myself go to a wandering.
Suffer but especially not to die,
move back to regret but not to choose.
Feel my own body implode and seeing all its weight spreading itself
for better running, submerged by impossible depths
to run like the clouds.

Now and here, lonely and cursed with infinite.
It's the simple story of the life number 9. The last.
That one the foam which brings back the puffed up fears of glass;
the last paragraph of the empty glances on the pier.

An invective, an absence, a heaviness, a breath...

Seeing in one moment the perpetual motion of an oppression.
this burden within which pulls about my internal organs,
plays of its knife with my heart states pallet.

Afterward?

here the knell sounds.
Trying the impossible to raise the face last once.
It's like testing to foresee a negligible gleam of hope
at the tunnel bottom too dark so that's the good way...
(Save Our Souls)