Writings

Extrait de mon livre "Rouge et blanc"

Temples of hate
rising up in the fall
It wasn't a matter of fate
But rather a blindness of soul

I still care for my son
for my place and for my fun
Soldiers of darkness
occupy all the hills
Drinking the fine water
and in there they will stay

Shall I become a big fish
to settle down in the seas
or an eagle or someone rich
to live in the highlands,
to be as free as bees
But neither waters nor mountains are safe
No surface is decent
not even the empty space

If weapons of evil are used as a habit
No simple life will survive
not a single wolf, nor a lucky rabbit
This isn't a science-fiction story
a bad fruit of a mad glory
With how and where,
we're missing the point
When is the magic key
So when about it,
should we start to worry