Slashdot

        So like a flower and a current of air
        the flow of water fleeting shadows
        the smile glimpsed at midnight this excellent evening
        so like every joy and every sadness
        it is the midnight past lifting its naked body above belfries and poplars
        I call to me those lost in the fields
        old skeletons young oaks cut down
        scraps of cloth rotting on the ground and linen drying in farm country
        I call tornadoes and hurricanes
        storms typhoons cyclones
        tidal waves
        earthquakes
        I call the smoke of volcanoes and the smoke of cigarettes
        the rings of smoke from expensive cigars
        I call lovers and loved ones
        I call the living and the dead
        I call gravediggers I call assassins
        I call hangmen pilots bricklayers architects
        assassins
        I call the flesh
        I call the one I love
        I call the one I love
        I call the one I love
        the jubilant midnight unfolds its satin wings and perches on my bed
        the belfries and the poplars bend to my wish
        the former collapse the latter bow down
        those lost in the fields are found in finding me
        the old skeletons are revived by my voice
        the young oaks cut down are covered with foliage
        the scraps of cloth rotting on the ground and in the earth
        snap to at the sound of my voice like a flag of rebellion
        the linen drying in farm country clothes adorable women
        whom I do not adore
        who come to me
        obeying my voice, adoring
        tornadoes revolve in my mouth
        hurricanes if it is possible redden my lips
        storms roar at my feet
        typhoons if it is possible ruffle me
        I get drunken kisses from the cyclones
        the tidal waves come to die at my feet
        the earthquakes do not shake me but fade completely
        at my command
        the smoke of volcanoes clothes me with its vapors
        and the smoke of cigarettes perfumes me
        and the rings of cigar smoke crown me
        loves and love so long hunted find refuge in me
        lovers listen to my voice
        the living and the dead yield to me and salute me
        the former coldly the latter warmly
        the gravediggers abandon the hardly-dug graves
        and declare that I alone may command their nightly work
        the assassins greet me
        the hangmen invoke the revolution
        invoke my voice
        invoke my name
        the pilots are guided by my eyes
        the bricklayers are dizzied listening to me
        the architects leave for the desert
        the assassins bless me
        flesh trembles when I call

        the one I love is not listening
        the one I love does not hear
        the one I love does not answer.

                                                        -- Robert Desnos