Il n’a pas voulu que je meurs
C’est écrit sur ces livres,
Un enfant du monde,
J’ai ouvert les yeux un jour,
Je savais que c’était lui,
Mon père m’attendait ici,
Ma marche avec lui,
Sur les sentiers de terres battues,
Il n’a pas voulu que je meurs.
Il m’a laissé le temps,
Comme un père à son enfant,
Venir dans ses bras lui parler,
Non je n’ai jamais oublié ce premier jour,
Un père pour son fils,
Je regarde le ciel, mon regard vers lui,
Sur les sentiers de terres battues,
Il n’a pas voulu que je meurs.
Je ne suis que l’enfant,
J’ai grandi avec lui,
Ils m’ont rejeté comme toi,
Sur les tables de lois prophétiques,
Mes liens sont le ciel d’un Dieu,
Une douceur d’un père à sa foi,
Sur les sentiers de terres battues,
Il n’a pas voulu que je meurs.
Je ne suis pas parfait,
Le témoignage d’un fils,
Un enfant qui reste souder à la vie d’un père,
Bien souvent fragiliser par des mots incongrus,
Aujourd’hui je continue cette marche avec lui,
Je sais que ses voies sont les miennes sur ces traces,
Sur les sentiers de terres battues,
Il n’a pas voulu que je meurs.
NICOLLE Edmond le 08.02.12
Je suis ce poète caractéristique de mots,
Ils m’ont déjà enfermé dans le silence, Edmond N.
He did not want me to die
It is written on these books,
A child's world,
I opened my eyes one day,
I knew it was him,
My father was waiting for me here,
My walk with him,
On the trails of clay courts,
He did not want me to die.
He left me time,
As a father to his child,
Come talk to him in his arms,
No I have never forgotten that first day,
A father to his thread,
I look at the sky, my gaze to him,
On the trails of clay courts,
He did not want me to die.
I am only a child,
I grew up with him,
They rejected me like you
On tables of laws prophetic
My links are a God of heaven,
Sweetness of a father to his faith,
On the trails of clay courts,
He did not want me to die.
I'm not perfect,
The testimony of a son,
A child who is welded to the life of a father,
Often weaken by incongruous words,
Today I continue the march with him,
I know that His ways are mine on these traces,
On the trails of clay courts,
He did not want me to die.
NICOLLE Edmond on 08/02/12
http://poemesauxtraversdutemps.wordpress.com/
http://poemesauxtraversdutemps.blogspot.com/
I am the poet of characteristic words
They've already locked in silence, Edmond N.
It is written on these books,
A child's world,
I opened my eyes one day,
I knew it was him,
My father was waiting for me here,
My walk with him,
On the trails of clay courts,
He did not want me to die.
He left me time,
As a father to his child,
Come talk to him in his arms,
No I have never forgotten that first day,
A father to his thread,
I look at the sky, my gaze to him,
On the trails of clay courts,
He did not want me to die.
I am only a child,
I grew up with him,
They rejected me like you
On tables of laws prophetic
My links are a God of heaven,
Sweetness of a father to his faith,
On the trails of clay courts,
He did not want me to die.
I'm not perfect,
The testimony of a son,
A child who is welded to the life of a father,
Often weaken by incongruous words,
Today I continue the march with him,
I know that His ways are mine on these traces,
On the trails of clay courts,
He did not want me to die.
NICOLLE Edmond on 08/02/12
http://poemesauxtraversdutemps.wordpress.com/
http://poemesauxtraversdutemps.blogspot.com/
I am the poet of characteristic words
They've already locked in silence, Edmond N.
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