Belgium

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...