Poem: Out of My Algeria

Out of My Algeria 

Jean Sénac

Out of my Algeria

they made the prisons taller

than the schools.

They sullied the nocturnal roots

of the People,

the serious Tree

of the remote Berbérie…

They denied the certainty of our Land,

they tore apart Islam, its color,

its fantastical tribes, even the shame

that makes them live.

They denied the Vital Fire, our Flag

They exiled the humble joys of our hurts

slow at the return of corn…

Blind! Blind!

On my Infinite People

they applied the whip without understanding

the power of books,

the rhythm of our blood,

our right to sacrifice,

to impatience.

Our whole body refused it.

Prisoners of their forfeiting

they listen to the dark crashes of the sticks

that mingle with the wind

following powder.

Without sight and without words

they assign the precise patrol

among raisins,

its halt under the dark pride of pines

at the detour of furious crossings,

the resumed cry of the Patriots

from which freedom falls like an eagle.

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