Poème pour Soeur Emmanuelle
Compte les larmes des femmes,
Sue des gouttes d’enfants, un jour
océan, tu combleras l’extase.
Ainsi parlait, Asmaé le bien nommé
qui disait Yallah, Kadima, en avant…
Ceux qui restaient derrière criaient
On fait ce qu’on pneu !
On fait ce con de pneu !
On n’est pas des chambres à air…
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