Mon enfance

My childhood passed from grayness to silence
False bows, lacking battles
In winter I was in the belly of the big house
Who had anchored in the north among the rushes
Half-naked, but quite modest summer
I was becoming Indian, yet already certain
That my well-fed uncles had stolen the Wild West from me

My childhood was spent with women in the kitchen
Where I dreamed of China, grew old in meals
The cheese men wrapped themselves in tobacco
Silent and wise Flemings, and did not know me
I, who every night, kneel for nothing
I arpeggiated my sorrow at the foot of the too-big bed
I wanted to take a train that I never took

My childhood passed from servant to servant
I was already surprised that they were not plants
I was still surprised by these family circles
Strolling from death to death, and dressed in mourning
I was especially surprised to be part of this flock
Who taught me to cry, which I knew too well
I had the eye of the shepherd, but the heart of the lamb

My childhood exploded, it was adolescence
And the wall of silence broke one morning
It was the first flower and the first girl
The first kind and the first fear
I was stealing, I swear, I swear I was stealing
My heart opened its arms, I was no longer barbaric

And the war came, and here we are tonight