And this is why all lives matter to me


The Colors of My World (by Martial Frindéthié, 1990)

The white and threatening stretch of sand
That rocks the dreams of the nomad’s land,
When by the fire he got his pipe lit,
we could hear him secretly whisper his love for it.

The black veil that falls at night,
Stage of ghosts with the decline of the light,
How many times in its shelters
grew the intimate embrace of two lovers?

My voice is hoarse, yet I feel no shame.
I will raise my voice in a song for the flame
Red and yellow that gathers the tribe
these nights when the drummers take pride.

There’s a smile here that I’ve seen there.
There are eyes there that I’ve seen here.
My song is black and red yellow and blond.
Ain’t they the colors of my world?


Across the Sea (by Martial Frindéthié, 1990)

Before blows the corrosive breeze of the sly rumors
And explode the eyes at the sight of horrors,
Before is shed the blood of those who have no more
And rises from the ruins, like acid mist, the wicked, victorious clamor,

Find across the sea a hand to hold.

Before becomes a fist the waving hand
and dies the smile and the mouth praises the gang,
Before kills the air that is meant to heal
And empty is the heart and hatred begins to fill,

Find across the street someone to love.

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