Voir les poètes en lecture à la Maison de la Poésie de Namur
i was running thru streets for train
and saint patrick still singing in the eyes
there were no whiskeys in the bar
but beers and cigarettes
and women and smiles
covered with the hands of all the people i’d met
there was a time of freedom
i could have slept homeless that nite
somebody called me a poet tonite and i trusted him
even though I’ve not that pretension, you know
but he was casting that same glance
as the man on the street that one day
told me god loved me
i don’t believe in god anymore
but i believed that man
for his tongue was uncorrupted
and his eyes telling me of happiness
somebody called me a poet tonite and i trusted him
even though i don’t think much of poets
as i don’t think much of comedians either
but… well… we’re all humans after all, aren’t we?
Frédéric Bourgeois
