The eye of Frankanistan / Poem by Jihène GATI

Poem by Jihène GATI


The eye of Frankanistan

« Il n’y a point de plus cruelle tyrannie que celle que l’on exerce à l’ombre des lois et avec la couleur de la justice. »


Frankanistan is sucking my body again
Lulling me in his remote den.
His head is so overinflated with evil
That it may blow to small monster skulls
His watery eyes get bigger and bigger
They cast me tenderness and anger
Frankanistan is complaining livelong.
Frankanistan is never wrong.
When his jaws open, he mutters inarticulate sounds
that even Shakespeare could not foreground.
I hate your multicolored skin
I hate your cheeky grin
Liberty is the right to be honest,
My assassin, I cannot trust.
Liberty is to speak without hypocrisy.
You are the master of falsity.
« The eye-
The eye-
I hate
The eye. », Said I.
« Do not whine
Everything is fine. »
« But the ground was too dry. »
« Do not cry
Do not rise, never try
Do not sigh
Never say « No » or « Why »
Never reply or deny.
Just, lie,
And die. »
« But I,
I hate the eye. »

Jihène GATI, All rights reserved.
(poème publié dans Full Stop, IRF Press

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