"Fortunately, I don't have a child," Yadna often says to herself
"It would be even harder, even more humiliating"
And then how would she have managed with a baby as baggage?
Would it have survived after all this journey?
Yadna fled the bombs, the war in her country
She knows she was scared but no longer knows of which enemies
Between the shots of her president, the rebels, the west
From Daesh and the Kurds, she no longer knows where the wind is coming from
She no longer knows where the dust comes from that razed her village
She no longer knows who fires the bullets that have extinguished all these faces
She just knows that Man is mad and that it's there, in Syria
That the epicenter of her madness gradually formed
Yadna thinks about all this as she approaches my window
I tell her "no" with my hand and I start up quickly
I might have had some change but I'm in a hurry, I have to move
I remember her look, I met Yadna at the red light

After three months of journey in all kinds of boats
She often thought that death would be the only destination
Like during that dark night in the middle of the Aegean Sea
Overwhelmed by the waves on a boat far too light
Between detention centers and the cruelest smugglers
Yadna lost sight of all those who had fled with her
She found herself alone with fear, an empty stomach
And strangers as lost as her as the only guides
Walking for weeks then paying vultures
The right to hide in the back of trucks without seeing daylight
After these months of hell, she spends her nights on a cardboard
Her Eldorado is located at Porte de la Chapelle, under a bridge
Yadna thinks about all this as she approaches my window
I tell her "no" with my hand and I start up quickly
I might have had some change but I'm in a hurry, I have to move
I remember her look, I met Yadna at the red light

In her nights, nightmares of expulsion are regular
She waits to obtain refugee status
She begs at the red light with distress as a gag
She inquires about her rights, little princess in the aisle
She sometimes imagines her life as a student in her country
If justice had eyes, if peace reigned in Syria
She even smiles sometimes, when she finds the strength to think about it
She dreams in Syrian but, there, she cries in French
I catch a glimpse of Yadna quickly when the light turns green
I have a little twinge in my heart, but I'm late and I accelerate
The greatest dramas are before our eyes but we are in a hurry, we have to move
There are humans behind the looks, I met Yadna at the red light

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