the white surface is not the void
nothing is not the void
what’s not said about us
is not the void
I’m not afraid of what’s not said
nor of the gap that disguises time
it’s the din of the world that scares me
the din of the nothing that isn’t nothing
the din of the swollen void
that inhabits the pavements
and then the streets
and then the parks
and then your room
and then your head
I’m not afraid of emptiness
the gap is a distant moment
a sun reborn
in the cool surface
of a silent winter morning

where I want to think of the nothing that opens
where I want to think of the space that remains
where I want to believe
that on a path of snow
a breath is stirring
that stirs fear

Translated from the French by Zoë Skoulding