We dipped our pen in our desire to change our vision
To take a parallel path, like a fleeting escape
We dipped our pen and is it really heresy
To say that we assume and that we write poetry

There is, it seems, a moment in writing
Which forgets the blank page and erases the corrections
A true second state, a kind of trance
Which mysteriously appears and flies away in silence
Whether we rap or slam, we seek this moment
It lights a flame that briefly illuminates us
This flame is proof, let me give you a demo
That it is possible to fight evil with words

It's anything but a legend, we just hope to touch the moment
The few seconds of the poet that escape space-time
The rare and unreal moments that tranquility floods
Rouda, never forget our word from the end of the world

We feel like a cut in life, like a dream
We forget the hard knocks of life, like a truce
It's a powerful phenomenon, I'm not talking about inspiration
But a deeper breath like a second breath
We see and hear the ink become alive
We taste and smell the flavor of a wandering rhyme
We touch the moment that envelops us with its power
It is constantly the rebirth of the very essence of our five senses
It's the moment when we cross to the other side of the landscapes
We sympathize with the wind and we address the clouds
It is day in the middle of the night and it is night in broad daylight
Enjoy this moment, it won't last forever

It's anything but a legend, we just hope to touch the moment
The few seconds of the poet that escape space-time
The moment when the veil lifts and the magic takes off
Where I met Souleymane at the end of the sixth silence

If we haven't reached Nirvana, we must be on the threshold
Yet I'm just sitting here in front of my sheet
Maybe this moment only exists in my mind
And that I'm completely mythomaniac when I write
But leave me my pen, there's no way I'm stopping
I have a desire to write like you have a desire for a cigarette
And to take away this desire I would ask you to come back
Because as long as I can write I will continue to think

That it's anything but a legend, we just hope to touch the moment
The few seconds of the poet that escape space-time
The moments that we rediscover, that we know more or less
You've already touched it Jacky, I'm a witness

We dipped our pen in our desire to change our vision
To take a parallel path, like a fleeting escape
We dipped our pen and is it really heresy
To say that we assume and that we write poetry

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