... I whistled the Marseillaise and the flag underfoot. I look uptight about this country and its quarrels. The unbridled look bleached and peeling. I stutter, almost without accent, the same problems that decades ago ... Country of Human Rights? So live and wild women killed by men themselves killing their own image ... but the songs and dances of resistance in their intense insults, beautify and sing France.
My father fought Vichy and collaboration. Expert in forged documents, save the victims of betrayal. Act and resist when the country loses because it offers humanity without taking the consent of the president. Hiding? Because of his affiliations, these struggles to bring justice in the balance. Youth, health, are cloistered in the resistance. No French, no rewards? No problem, it saves France.
secrecy and censorship are creating a long silence, a silence that covers and stifling the screams - and the aftershocks as well - and the country says: "Sing and sing and France sings. "
The thought of blackness to the writings of Aime Cesaire, the language of Kateb Yacine exceeding Molière, at home in the huts of revolutionary words, enriching a language dear to many of the wretched of the earth. The advance of Olympe de Gouges in a struggle without reward? All these beings whose replica replaced a long silence, all these spirits whose existence has embellished sling their global reputation will be served to France.
Our countries are far away, but proud as a mother seeing her child gone home but never forget that defies integration of amnesia if it is . Go into the country if it is to be raised. Me, I have broken country - it's not prosthetics. Related by blood, I can not ignore them. And nobody has to tell me the foot on which I dance. She accepts me as being multiple, and I will sing of France.
country envied by many, thanks to its rich history ... But the past is to use crop respect too thin, then it duplicates the great American and his victory. And force it to copy only resembles his province ... And ghettos are expanding, getting poorer, it's romantic. Nobody needed this, excessive poverty. What a difference between us and the guy across the Atlantic? Who knows why, it's harder to sing in France.
I will not go to war, I have no land as pride. I have no land but acres of citizenship, which can also defend themselves by force of arms - by dint of being built, it will eventually ingrown toenail ... Exit to sing something, I hum humanity while requiring it to admit that this is his chance. And when the doors remain closed, he is involved, because that's his bruises that can be built in France.
secrecy and censorship are creating a long silence, a silence that covers and stifling the screams - and the aftershocks as well - and the country says: "Sing and sing and France sings. "
Rocé "I sing of France"
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