We Live For Our Dead

We carry the blood of the dead

Who were, at one time, very much alive

We continue to live for the gentle giants

Who bequeathed us great treasures.

Our parents are not dead

Because their blood flows through our veins

They’re among us in the forests as in the plains

Their lives continue naturally in our bodies.

We live for the dead poets

With pens that are inflamed by pretty words

Energized words, which are capable of transforming the spells

Of humanity, in search of pristine spirits.

We continue to live for brilliant writers

Great scholars and intellectuals who tried and challenged

Countless autocratic, ferocious and bloodthirsty regimes

We live, in reality, for the legendary deceased.

Under the disobstructed eyes of the clarity of the moon

Our country is presently crying, where everything is in ruins

Like the buildings that are destroyed by the malicious earthquake

We mourn bitterly for the victims of the schism.

We live for our ancestors, our forefathers and their spirits

With the intention of changing and improving many lives

We live for the poor deceased fighters

Who had organs and organs made of diamond, topaz, and gold.

P.S. Translation of ‘Nous Vivons Pour Nos Morts’ by Hébert Logerie.

Copyright © August 2021, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.

Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.