The President Was Not Killed

They garroted him

They suffocated him

They slapped him

They strangled him

They shot him

They blinded him

They hustled him

They wasted him

They tortured him

They paralyzed him

They dismembered him

They annihilated him

This is not lord darn funny

Since the Fatherland is mad and icky

This is too much, too much! How lurid and vicious!

It's hard to find the exact words

And to recover the lethal swords

Since a man or a woman only dies one time

Not twice, not twelve times, in a deadly crime

Who are the killers, the avengers, the attackers?

Oh! They must be awfully savageous, these predators

In spite of the differences

Sometimes one gets wild chances

The president was not killed

They insulted him

They lynched him

They stabbed him

They slaughtered him

They jabbed him

They zapped him

They mistreated him

They clobbered him

They murdered him

They machine gunned him

They terminated him

They cadavered him

Lord darn! It's too much, too much! How rancorous!

They are going to sing the Te Deum Masses

Where are the culprits, the criminals, the wild asses?

All men and women are mortal

The people are immortal

And the country lives under a shy

Gloomy, dark and stunned sky

In front of such a bruised and mutilated cadaver

They eliminated the messenger

But messages are often deafening and sacred

One can't kill a dream with violence and hatred

Yet the sun continues to rise everywhere

Even when it rains somewhere

The firmament remains blue and majestic

When a man dies in such tragic

And criminal circumstances, humanity is wrong, catawampus

The assassins must be apprehended as soon as possible

Otherwise, no one will sleep in peace

The president was not killed

Yet he got deafened, executed, rumpled, and disheveled

Demoralized, stabbed, bedraggled, and dismantled

Amidst all, the country remains somber, powerful and able.

 

P.S. Translation of ‘On N’a Pas Tué Le Président’ by Hébert Logerie.

 

Copyright © July 2021, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved

Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.

 

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world

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