When I look myself in the mirror,
I see myself who sleep,
But I see myself dead,
When I look myself in the Loire.
When I see my hand,
It is full with blood,
I it essuies on a bank,
And I see my destiny.
My breath is blocked,
I see life,
Then I am released.
Because of this ill-treatment,
All that is only violence,
But this is my life.
Lionel.dub
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem