It was an uneventful evening, an end of the day with a sober destiny
9 PM without hope, a Wednesday in October
On the tired asphalt, sloping sidewalk on Rue des Dames
Far from the agitated dramas, it's my first slam evening
Human beings in a café are gathered to listen to each other
They speak one by one and my ears are enchanted
Humans in equality, each is free to start
The principle is very simple, yet it needed to be thought of
At first, I remained passive but immediately dreamed of action

At first, I remained pensive to understand this revelation
I took an avalanche of rhymes and a cascade of themes
So far from the star system, you stay late if you love it
A few moments later, I unearthed the inkwell
Creating without praying
To scream without shouting
Without a hitch, without veering
In the voice, the ink is there
To receive without shining
And give without sorting

Slam slapped my mind then freed the passions
Shaking my creative desire that had been in hibernation
In search of these atmospheres throughout Paris, I will roam
It's decided, my voice is free and its tone will resonate
Poetry in bars has a date with life
I saw it and you live it
I admit I followed it
It takes shape, it grows
It shines and it is heard

It embraces you and once it holds you, it takes its time
Poetry in bars only comes out in our voices
The very concept of these evenings is a poem that is glimpsed
Poetry hides everywhere, on the counter, in your half-pint
It overflows onto the sidewalk and spreads, the epidemic
I'll never forget the year I caught the virus
When you stumble upon a chance and fall on a bonus
These evenings where we open up, these moments where we rise
Hours spent using our saliva, biting words to the core
I won't forget these rare moments where the night serves as a playground
In search of the ephemeral, half worried, half serene
I don't know if happiness can be touched, but maybe we brushed it two or three times

In this somewhat shady atmosphere reflected in our voices
I won't forget these open hearts from all backgrounds and all ages
United in the desire to discover, in listening and sharing
Those who were there wouldn't change a thing even if everything had to be redone
And besides, a spoken text was still a free drink
These evenings are still there, but the best is when you get to know people
Nothing beats the charm of the unknown, the discovery, and the innocence

This nostalgia often reminds me that I also shook hands
Encounters that make you wish yesterday would bleed into tomorrow
I'm still full of motivation and I relapse without hesitation
Seeking that sensation worth 700 passions
From that not bygone era, I received a viral legacy
A habit that never leaves me, it's true, I write orally
It was an uneventful evening, an end of the day with a sober destiny
9 PM without hope, a Wednesday in October
I heard voices that touch like choirs in my morale
Since then, I have ink in my mouth, since then, I write orally

CONSULTER LES PAROLES ORIGINALES