I do not mourn your life
For it is not yours really.
I do not tie the ropes of the attachment
To feeble beatings of my lonely heart.
I cannot mourn my life
For it is just a blurred reflection
Of a clear existence of a single link
Within an endless chain.
How can I speak of freedom
For there is ever none,
Or friendship that is doomed to end when time’s to come,
Or love that drifts away like paper boats.
The joyful moments of their short voyage
Can only be enjoyed by little kids,
While adults only dream of mighty yachts,
Which they can hardly buy, inherit, earn or steal.
I cannot mourn my dreams –
I sing an ode to them.
They will be always there, while others pass away.
I will dream on, despite, against and more
I’ll spread my dreams like virus, a disease,
Contagious disfunction of a crazy mind.
I’ll paint them on, I’ll show them off,
I’ll pass them on, until I die.
2011.
*voyage – in french transcription