It\u2019s raining bombs on the City of Mary;<\/p>\n
The kids, their bodies white and torn apart,<\/p>\n
Interrogative their cold looks<\/p>\n
Fixated on the Azov and on the eternity.<\/p>\n
In the horizon, the horror and its hussars:<\/p>\n
Death rains again in Mariupol.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A tornado of a metal shell<\/p>\n
Hurl from the distance the flames of hell:<\/p>\n
On the grey boats, the iron cannons<\/p>\n
Downpour storms dark and red,<\/p>\n
The annihilation, the despair.<\/p>\n
The East crying: end the abuse of power!<\/p>\n
Death rains again in Mariupol.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The Russian army encircled the entire city,<\/p>\n
From a distance launch a giant missile<\/p>\n
That stifles at first, terrifies, then,<\/p>\n
Erases a district and the family of dozens.<\/p>\n
Radio-controlled arms destroyed<\/p>\n
The hope of the Ukrainians strewn:<\/p>\n
Death rains again in the Mariupol.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
In some lurid wintry suburbia,<\/p>\n
Erratic and ghostly militia<\/p>\n
Falsely play a macabre opera:<\/p>\n
Robotised spectres or scoundrels<\/p>\n
Machinery extremely smooth and infernal,<\/p>\n
Leave for ever deep and sinistrous scars<\/p>\n
Death rains again in Mariupol.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The memories of Yalta, the mockery,<\/p>\n
Its promises of peace without firing,<\/p>\n
The betrayal of the Budapest:<\/p>\n
Stripped off, trusting eventually perishing<\/p>\n
In face of howitzers, tanks and machine guns.<\/p>\n
The people face cholera or plague:<\/p>\n
Death rains again in Mariupol.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
From the other side of beautiful Europe<\/p>\n
We watch in unison, passive satire,<\/p>\n
The TV well-programmed show of horror<\/p>\n
And the atrocities of a vast army.<\/p>\n
The blood of too many young martyrs<\/p>\n
Splashing on our shady screens.<\/p>\n
Death still rains in Mariupol.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Our linen is clean, our face sober,<\/p>\n
Except our grand consciences aren\u2019t.<\/p>\n
Our cowardice discredits<\/p>\n
The long European history:<\/p>\n
A David in face of the cyclopean<\/p>\n
A city crucified in front of the Slavic.<\/p>\n
Death still rains in the Mariupol.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Where Atlantic ends its wave,<\/p>\n
The New World numerous citizens<\/p>\n
And their venerable President,<\/p>\n
Thanks to their democratic power,<\/p>\n
Helps us then sends their big trident<\/p>\n
For a pragmatic solution:<\/p>\n
Yet death rains in Mariupol<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I wait, I hope another tomorrow,<\/p>\n
When the peace rules in humanity<\/p>\n
The dolphins will carry the adolescent<\/p>\n
The women will give their gentle hand<\/p>\n
The sun will dance, incandescent,<\/p>\n
The poets will write: freedom!<\/p>\n
Life again bathes the port of Mariupol.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Free translation: Vidhi Taparia, B. de Foucauld.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" It\u2019s raining bombs on the City of Mary; The kids, their bodies white and torn apart, Interrogative their cold looks<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":8660,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"inline_featured_image":false,"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[45],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8707","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poesie-des-territoires_en"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n