Nos absents [English translation]

The ghosts do not really exist, but their absence is so much strong that creates in us a presence which makes us weak, which supports us

This is the absence of those we loved that creates an almost tangible void, because the love we had given to them now is an orphan who looks for a target

For some of them we were aware of it, we had been prepared for the worst, but the other ones disappeared suddenly

Without any advance warning

We did not say goodbye, they had left without our permission.

Because death has its own reasons that our reason is unaware of

Thus we are regrouped with an utopian comfort

Several of us are stronger but not less sad

It is in the solitude that we mourn for them, because when we are alone, we feel the effects

We tame the pain and the presence of our absent ones

Our absent ones are always there, in our mind and in our memories

In the video of vacations, in these photos full of smiles

Our absent ones surround us and remain by our sides. They come back to life in our dreams ,as if nothing has happened

We are reassured by the suffering that pinch our neck, saying that wherever they are surely have less pain than us

So we walk, we laugh, we sing

But their shadows dwell

In a corner of our brain

In a corner of our happiness

We have some projects, we plan our tomorrows

We decide the way, we look at the future in our hands

And in the heart of action, in our victories and our hells, time to time we imagine that our absent ones are watching what we are doing

Every life is a miracle, but the end is annoying

 I am well informed, that we will not leave here alive

Must learn to accept it for trying to grow old happily

But every year our absent ones get a little more numerous

Every new disappearance transform our hearts into lace

But the time passes and the long lived pains become pastel

For once the time is a true ally

Every hour passes is an ointment, it will take thousands

Me , the dead, the missing ones,

I do not speak much

I write about them

I tickle the taboo subjects

This big mystery which waits for us,

Our ultimate point common to all

The ghosts do not really exist, but their absence is so much strong that creates in us a presence which makes us weak, which supports us

This is the absence of those we loved that creates an almost infinite void that inspire first degree texts

Must say that death lacks irony