WHERE THE DOG IS BURIED

You asked me about punctuation on a sunny day
Kept silent as the sun went down
Night enveloping my past without stamps
The lies that our vanity throw away
Humanity, you know this word
As religions strangle our greedy hearts
You build a bridge between skies
My soul exaggerated your reality
Waiting for the end of your test on the shores of thankfulness
I shall walk without a halt, under the victorious skies
Shoot boorers (perce-oreilles) accompanying green boots
In the aster fields I shall walk unrepentant
Until my voice reaches your many souls
Work is not a wolf, as say the Russians ;
It does not fly into the woods
Like bears are avoiding men’s gaze
These men that only respect the law they have written in cold blood
Where should I go friend tell me ?
To have the answer to my madness ?
Should I press the long legs of paradise,
The lemons iced and juicy
Where the dog is buried (Russian expression used when the core of a problem is found)
Should I embarrass the world with stamped passports?
I doubt this is what life has to gift
I will swim with my lover, under a rain of prejudices
I drank the juice of rotten plums
I envied the Hell my hosts where living in,
I envied their blindfold
That hid impurity to their blank eyes
A traditional dress Is waiting for me
Our living room is minimalist, my dress smells like summer
I am more peaceful as the seasons come by
I throw dust into your dark eyes
I will not reveal any Turkish sky
My words are but unreligious and your doors have been long shut in front of me
Davaï ! (lets go !)
I took all what I was, my heart and soul in the palms of my hands
The winds of justice was making my eyes swollen with tiredness
And coming alive on the verge of a beautiful summer day
I became vulnerable while I heard a bird flying
My feet were strolling a geometry of flowers
And I screamed, without punctuation nor mind games
Catching a hat that flew in the airs

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