Je r\u00eave une existence en un clo\u00eetre de fer,
\nBr\u00fbl\u00e9e au je\u00fbne, et s\u00e8che et r\u00e2p\u00e9e aux cilices,
\nO\u00f9 l\u2019on abolirait, en de muets supplices,
\nPar seule ardeur de l\u2019\u00e2me enfin, toute la chair.<\/p>\n
Sauvage horreur de soi si mornement sentie !
\nQuand notre corps nous boude et que nos nerfs, la nuit,
\nRivent sur nos vouloirs leurs cagoules d\u2019ennui,
\nEt les plongent dans la fi\u00e8vre ou l\u2019inertie.<\/p>\n
Dites, ces pleurs, ces cris et cette peur du soir !
\nDites, ces plombs de maladie en tous les membres,
\nEt la toute torpeur des torpides novembres
\nEt le d\u00e9go\u00fbt de se toucher et de se voir ?<\/p>\n
Et les mauvaises mains t\u00e2tillonnes de vice
\nEncor et lentement cherchant, sur les coussins,
\nEt des toisons de ventre, et des grappes de seins
\nEt les tortillements dans le r\u00eave complice ?<\/p>\n
Je r\u00eave une existence en un clo\u00eetre de fer,
\nBr\u00fbl\u00e9e au je\u00fbne et s\u00e8che et r\u00e2p\u00e9e aux cilices,
\nO\u00f9 l\u2019on abolirait en de muets supplices,
\nPar seule ardeur de l\u2019\u00e2me enfin, toute la chair.<\/p>\n
Et s\u2019imposer le gel des sens, quand le corps br\u00fble ;
\nEt se tyranniser et se tordre le c\u0153ur,
\n\u2014 H\u00e9las ! ce qui en reste \u2014 et tordre, avec ranc\u0153ur,
\nJusqu\u2019au regret d\u2019un autrefois doux et cr\u00e9dule.<\/p>\n
Se cravacher dans sa pens\u00e9e et dans son sang,
\nDans son effort, dans son espoir, dans son blasph\u00e8me ;
\nEt s\u2019exalter de ce m\u00e9pris, vain lui-m\u00eame,
\nMais qui rach\u00e8te un peu l\u2019orgueil d\u2019o\u00f9 l\u2019on descend.<\/p>\n
Et se mesquiniser en pratiques futiles
\nEt se faire petit et n\u2019avoir qu\u2019\u00e2pret\u00e9,
\nPour tout ce qui n\u2019est point d\u2019une \u00e2cre nullit\u00e9,
\nDans le jardin vann\u00e9 des floraisons hostiles.<\/p>\n
Je r\u00eave une existence en un clo\u00eetre de fer
\nBr\u00fbl\u00e9e au je\u00fbne et s\u00e8che et r\u00e2p\u00e9e aux cilices,
\nO\u00f9 l\u2019on abolirait, en de muets supplices,
\nPar seule ardeur de l\u2019\u00e2me enfin, toute la chair,<\/p>\n
Oh ! la constante rage \u00e0 s\u2019\u00e9craser, la hargne
\n\u00c0 se tant torturer, \u00e0 se tant amoindrir,
\nQue tout l\u2019\u00eatre n\u2019est plus vivant que pour souffrir
\nEt se fait de son mal sa joie et son \u00e9pargne.<\/p>\n
N\u2019entendre plus ses cris, ne sentir plus ses pleurs,
\nM\u00e2ter son instinct noir, tuer sa raison tra\u00eetre,
\nOh ! le pouvoir et le savoir ! \u00catre son ma\u00eetre
\nEt les avoir cass\u00e9s les crocs de ses douleurs !<\/p>\n
Et peut \u00eatre qu\u2019alors, par un soir salutaire,
\nUne paix de n\u00e9ant s\u2019installerait en moi ;
\nEt que sans m\u2019\u00e9mouvoir j\u2019\u00e9couterais l\u2019aboi,
\nL\u2019aboi tumultueux de la mort volontaire.<\/p>\n
Je r\u00eave une existence en un clo\u00eetre de fer.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"parent":0,"template":"","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"default","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"default","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"set","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}}},"annee":[252],"poems-book":[686],"poemes-theme":[352,371],"poete":[654],"class_list":["post-15183","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-252","poems-book-les-debacles","poemes-theme-desespoir","poemes-theme-imaginaire","poete-emile-verhaeren"],"yoast_head":"\n