I live in the rainiest suburb in the galaxy
the droplets run over the gray-draped habits ...
I am a stowaway in a parking lot full of umbrellas...
My Belgium I hate your platitude in a deep love ...
The walls of your cities have the names of war games
that you never played ...
Under the sun of the giants you put your shadow
in your pocket to prevent it from lying down ...
The frenchman love you to the barometer
of his worried vanity ,and you don\'t tell the dutch
that their beers speak a Flemish jargon...
Little Belgium and respected banana kingdom
is you therefore only this illusion where the winds
of imaginary oceans blow between Bruges et Gand ?
I watch live the night and its hop tears on the
windows of my dreams and even if the wise monkey
in me points his finger ,I would not see the moon
who doesn\'t have time for a rendez vous with my humble Belgium...