J\u2019ai regard\u00e9, par la lucarne ouverte, au flanc
\nD\u2019un phare abandonn\u00e9 que flagellait la pluie :
\nDes trains tumultueux, sous des tunnels de suie,
\nSifflaient, fix\u00e9s, au loin, par des fanaux en sang.<\/p>\n
Le port immens\u00e9ment enchev\u00eatr\u00e9 de m\u00e2ts,
\nDormait, huileux et lourd, en ses bassins d\u2019asphalte ;
\nUn seul levier, debout sur un bloc de basalte,
\nSerrait, en son poing noir, un \u00e9norme acomas.<\/p>\n
Et sous l\u2019envo\u00fbtement de ce soir de portor,
\nUne \u00e0 une, l\u00e0-bas, s\u2019\u00e9loignaient les lanternes,
\nVers des quartiers de bruit, de joie et de tavernes,
\nO\u00f9 bondissent les ruts, parmi des miroirs d\u2019or.<\/p>\n
Quand plaie \u00e9norme et rouge, une voile, soudain,
\nTum\u00e9fi\u00e9e au vent, cingla vers les d\u00e9barcad\u00e8res,
\nQuelqu\u2019un qui s\u2019en venait des pays l\u00e9gendaires,
\nParut, le front compact d\u2019orgueil et de d\u00e9dain.<\/p>\n
Comme des glaives d\u2019or en des fourreaux de fer,
\nIl enserrait sa rage et ses d\u00e9sirs sauvages
\nEt ses cris grands cassaient les \u00e9chos des rivages
\nEt traversaient, de part en part, l\u2019ombre et la mer.<\/p>\n
Il \u00e9tait d\u2019Oc\u00e9an. Il \u00e9tait vieux d\u2019avoir
\nMordu chaque horizon saccag\u00e9 de temp\u00eate
\nEt de sentir, encore et quand m\u00eame, sa t\u00eate
\nCrier, vers la souffrance et les affres du soir.<\/p>\n
Il se voulait supplici\u00e9. Il se savait
\nLe prisonnier de son d\u00e9sir. Sur sa croix d\u2019\u00e2me,
\nIl se saignait, avec de rouges clous de flamme,
\nEt d\u00e9gustait toute la mort, qu\u2019il en buvait.<\/p>\n
Sa vie ? \u2014 Elle s\u2019\u00e9tait dard\u00e9e en cette foi
\nDe n\u2019\u00eatre rien, sinon celui qui s\u2019\u00e9pouvante
\nEt des sabrants \u00e9clairs de son \u00e2me savante
\nFlagelle, obstin\u00e9ment, les orages du soi.<\/p>\n
Effrayant effray\u00e9. Il cherchait le chemin
\nVers une autre existence \u00e9clat\u00e9e en miracles,
\nEn un d\u00e9sert de rocs illumin\u00e9s d\u2019oracles,
\nO\u00f9 le ch\u00eane vivrait, o\u00f9 parlerait l\u2019airain ;<\/p>\n
O\u00f9 tout l\u2019orgueil serait : se vivre, en d\u00e9ploiements
\nD\u2019effroi sauvage, avec, sur soi, la voix profonde
\nEt tonnante des Dieux, qui ont tordu le monde
\nGrand de terreur, sous le froid d\u2019or des firmaments.<\/p>\n
Et depuis des mille ans, il luttait, sur la mer,
\nBombant \u00e0 l\u2019horizon les torses de ses voiles,
\nToujours, vers les lointains, des plus rouges \u00e9toiles
\nDont les cristaux sanglants se cassaient dans la mer.<\/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":[258],"poems-book":[689],"poemes-theme":[],"poete":[654],"class_list":["post-15222","poemes","type-poemes","status-publish","hentry","annee-258","poems-book-les-apparus-dans-mes-chemins","poete-emile-verhaeren"],"yoast_head":"\n