THE MONSTERS
The monsters you encounter on the street
Are those, raised without love
Like flowers and grass without dew
Burned by the summer sun, the heat
They are bodies torn apart, soaked with rain
They are fingers, yellow from picking up cigarette butts
They are the doormats when you leave the loge
They are the curses against the blows
The detained defeated, the disinherited, the thiefs
Those, who don’t wage wars
Deserters, who daub paintings
The starved, the earth’s condemned
Those without history and without a father
Without uniform and without colour
Without siblings, orphans of the fatherland and the mother
Sons of the wind, desire and odour
Poets, deprived of their dreams and the moon
Girls, bought and then raped
Alcoholics, left by their fortune
Women, first drugged and then eviscerated
They are the anarchists, those restless monsters
The naive visionary and credulous
They dream of a world of merry days
And laugh at the foolish teachers
Watch them, the enemies of our wealth
They are those who are absent from our culture
They question our certainties
Yo need to be afraid of those monsters
Look at them carefully, look at their faces
They are honest and kind-hearted
Don’t run away, give them a smile
And they will be loyal like a dog