===============================
Ce poème ayant été écrit à quatre mains, je salue chaleureusement le talent de la co-auteure pour cette œuvre rédigée a l'occasion du Black History Month de 2020.
Au vu du contexte actuel, nous dédions également Georges Floyd, afro-américain de 46 ans injustement tué lors d'une bavure policière. Cet événement nous rappelle les dangers du racisme et que la modernité n'est pas synonyme de progrès. La lutte pour l'égalité inter-ethnique demeure nécessaire dans bien des endroits de la planète, au nom de l'humanité.
Après cette nécessaire introduction, je vous souhaite une bonne lecture.
==============================
When come the short month of
frebruary
Can you hear our song of hope ?
Despite the pains endure in our history
We continue to fight for a world less worse
We went through hardships
Intending to escape slavery by ships
Ripped from our motherlands
Would it be the end ?
We struggled and suffered
Crowded in the hell of a steerage
Our pain was never been heard
But pour hope escape from pour cage.
Landed in a unknown country
Sold as filthy animals
Devoted to a real cause.
Is it our voice or our freedom that will be lost ?
In the despair of our life loss
Whilst slavery would show us her claws.
Instead of being close to free my mind and compose,
I must remain silent, and work in the cotton fields that our masters own.
Then, i am starting to be morose
In front of this forbidden vote.
The Abolition came to explode,
The chains we were exposed.
The 15th amendment gave us the freedom which was sewed.
Our hopes are now underwrote,
On the Freedom road
Forgotten the dream of liberator Abraham
Segregation came and drowned his promise
From Till to Kennedy, she shooted hopeful man
And in the ghetto, the roar of the panthers rise
But one day Rosa parks her bus on Jim Crow's Laws
A black preacher dreamed of an equal heaven
And despite the white masks of dark crows
A century after Gettysburg, Liberty had her garden
We have dreamed about a final victory
When the White house turn in black
But our brothers remained in poverty
And eight years after racism came back
The ghost of supremacism walked in Charlotesville
Black Lives Matter shows the violence of police
And, as long as in United States justice miss
The fight of King will continue, in the city and the hill
At the end, a soothing melody
Takes over the sufferings of slavery
in Hell these awful memories will be torn
Tears from a golden people are now gone
VOUS LISEZ
Le désenchantement du Monde
PoesíaLe Monde a t'il perdu toute sa magie ? Où est-ce seulement sa noirceur qui l'a désenchanté ? Car quand passent l'éphémère espoir et la banalité des tourments, seul demeure un constat qui ne laisse nulle place à l'enchantement: tout à une fin, et not...
