I live in a house with no balcony, no roof,

Where there are even no bees on preserve jars.

There are even no birds, not even nature;

It is not even a house.

I left, passing by, a few words on the wall

The corridor going down to the parking lot,

A few words for grown up,

Not even insults.

If someone hears them…

Answer me.

Answer me.

 

My heart is afraid of being immured between your ice towers,

Condemned to the noise of trucks passing by,

He who dreamed about stars fields, daffodils necklaces,

To hang on girls’ shoulders.

 

But morning carries you running towards your habits

And, in the evening, your forest of antennas is connected on loneliness.

And may the full moon shines,

May the South wind blows,

You, you don’t hear.

And, me, I see your beautiful ice-eyed dogs passing by,

Carried on pillows that the masters embrace.

To touch one’s hand, we need passwords,

To touch one’s hand.

Answer me.

Answer me.

 

My heart is afraid of getting stuck in so little space,

Condemned to the noise of trucks passing by,

He who dreamed about stars fields, daffodils rains,

To shelter on girls shoulders.

 

 

 

But the last fairy looks for her magic wand,

My friend, the brook, sleeps in a plastic bottle,

Seasons stopped at the feet of synthetic trees,

I’m the only one left.

And, me, I live in a house with no balcony, no roof,

Where there are even no bees on preserve jars.

There are even no birds, not even nature;

It is not even a house.