Nasarov "the trimardeur" - My egg

Nasarov is back. From these bushy tracks, he is coming to meet you.  

There is always a nail driven in a wall where he can hang is cap and his jacket. There is always a bit of water that we can give him, so that he tells us about what our eyes hope lays beyond the hills. 

As water will ease words, Nasarov will sit for a minute and show you the treasures he has gathered in his meanderings. In his pockets, in his satchels, there are tokens of resurrection. Eggs that could be the twins Castor and Pollux’s, or Helen of Troy’s or Clytemnestra’s, Osiris’ or Orpheus’. In his pockets, there is also Humpty Dumpty, whom he found at the foot of a wall and picked up, and a few fragments of shell from the egg of Columbus…

But, first of all: what is an Egg? This is what you will discover by peeling the memory of this organic body that contains, in germ, a form of poetry that some have called “Clairvoyance”. So, in the beginning, you will have to find the egg, the matchstick and some salt, what used to be given to children on New Year’s Day to ensure that they had “a head was full of good things”, that bad spirits wouldn’t influence them and that they would stay “upright” in any circumstances.  

I give you eggs. The egg in its round form 
Resembles heaven spanning in its reach 
The fire, the air and earth, the mood of the sea 
and unconfined, comprises all the world. 

Pierre de Ronsard (trans. Sean Chapman)