The dismay in the face, it's a loss, it's a find, it's the joy in your heart

Un photogramme en printemps 2011.

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The dismay in the face, it's a loss, it's a find, it's the joy in your heart

The dismay in the face, it's a loss, it's a find, it's the joy in your heart

A stick, a stone,It's the end of the road,It's the rest of a stump,It's a little aloneIt's a sliver of glass,It is life, it's the sun,It is night, it is death,It's a trap, it's a gunThe oak when it blooms,A fox in the brush,A knot in the wood,The song of a thrushThe wood of the wind,A cliff, a fall,A scratch, a lump,It is nothing at allIt's the wind blowing free,It's the end of the slope,It's a beam, it's a void,It's a hunch, it's a hopeAnd the river bank talksof the waters of March,It's the end of the strain,The joy in your heartThe foot, the ground,The flesh and the bone,The beat of the road,A slingshot's stoneA fish, a flash,A silvery glow,A fight, a bet,The range of a bowThe bed of the well,The end of the line,The dismay in the face,It's a loss, it's a findA spear, a spike,A point, a nail,A drip, a drop,The end of the taleA truckload of bricksin the soft morning light,The shot of a gunin the dead of the nightA mile, a must,A thrust, a bump,It's a girl, it's a rhyme,It's a cold, it's the mumpsThe plan of the house,The body in bed,And the car that got stuck,It's the mud, it's the mudAfloat, adrift,A flight, a wing,A hawk, a quail,The promise of springAnd the riverbank talksof the waters of March,It's the promise of lifeIt's the joy in your heartA stick, a stone,It's the end of the roadIt's the rest of a stump,It's a little aloneA snake, a stick,It is John, it is Joe,It's a thorn in your handand a cut in your toeA point, a grain,A bee, a bite,A blink, a buzzard,A sudden stroke of nightA pin, a needle,A sting, a pain,A snail, a riddle,A wasp, a stainA pass in the mountains,A horse and a mule,In the distance the shelvesrode three shadows of blueAnd the riverbank talksof the waters of March,It's the promise of lifein your heart, in your heartA stick, a stone,The end of the road,The rest of a stump,A lonesome roadA sliver of glass,A life, the sun,A knife, a death,The end of the runAnd the riverbank talksof the waters of March,It's the end of all strain,It's the joy in your heart.

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