When the trees sing again
\nWhen we can see a horizon line
\nI will learn to speak the language of fish
\nTo dive happily into the ocean of words.<\/p>\n
We will have to repair our little suffering land
\nSow seeds of life among the weed
\nAnd just like Cyrano reinventing the verb
\nShare the sun and the shooting stars.<\/p>\n
When dreams whisper a new way of knowing
\nAnd that a sincere hope will make us breathe,
\nWhen we stop colonizing everything
\nThe slave may finally have no master.<\/p>\n
We will have to heal wounds that are still alive
\nForgive genocides and military crimes
\nBuilding another imaginary wisely
\nProtect these streams that children chase.<\/p>\n
And time has flowed, The ink has dried…
\nThe merry-go-round is extinguished, the merry-go-round disenchanted,
\nDoes your child make our shoes?
\nYou have to be productive, competitive,
\nit is a long Requiem, a war against ourselves.
\nSilence mocked
\nHassles of the roar
\nDamaged by dirty and sticky money…
\nInequalities are widening and what justice in all this?
\nCrooked billionaires almost always avoid prison
\nWhen the children of exile are parked in camps.
\nThe injustice that triumphs
\nIt is the failure of social progress,
\nThe inequalities that prosper are disrupting the climate a little more each day.
\nWe are the witnesses,
\nBeaten up by cops who can no longer be the shields that protect our kings.
\nThe end of the world in sight or the dodge of the ostrich…
\nOn our very vague glances the future is absent,
\nSo… We look for our childhood in the eyes of a kid.<\/p>\n
When the trees sing again
\nAnd that behind their branches we will paint the horizon
\nFrom my pen I will invent a new conjugation
\nTo learn to speak the language of birds.<\/p>\n
When the human will sing the future
\nDeserts will become forests
\nOur ideals will grow without fertilizer
\nWe can finally rebuild everything.<\/p>\n