On Ira

We will go listen to Harlem at the corner of Manhattan
We will go blush the tea in the souks of Amman
We will go swim in the bed of the Senegal River
And we will see Bombay burning under a Bengal fire

We will scratch the sky below Kyoto
We will feel Rio beating in the heart of Janeiro
We will raise our eyes to the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel
And we will raise our glasses in the Pouchkine café

Oh! How beautiful is our chance
With a thousand colors of the human being
Mixed with our differences
At the crossroads of destinies

You are the stars, we are the universe
You are in a grain of sand, we are the desert
You are a thousand pages and I am the pen
Oh oh oh oh! Oh oh oh!

You are the horizon, and we are the sea
You are the seasons, and we are the earth
You are the shore and I am the foam
Oh oh oh oh! Oh oh oh!

We will say that poets have no flags
We will make festive days as much as we have heroes
We will know that children are the guardians of the soul
And that there are queens as many as there are women

We will say that encounters make the most beautiful journeys
We will see that we only deserve what is shared
We will hear music from elsewhere
And we will know how to give the best of ourselves

Oh! How beautiful is our chance
With a thousand colors of the human being
Mixed with our differences
At the crossroads of destinies

You are the stars, we are the universe
You are in a grain of sand, we are the desert
You are a thousand pages and I am the pen
Oh oh oh oh! Oh oh oh!

You are the horizon, and we are the sea
You are the seasons, and we are the earth
You are the shore and I am the foam
Oh oh oh oh! Oh oh oh!

You are the stars, we are the universe
You are in a grain of sand, we are the desert
You are a thousand pages and I am the pen
Oh oh oh oh! Oh oh oh!

You are the horizon, and we are the sea
You are the seasons, and we are the earth
You are the shore and I am the foam
Oh oh oh oh! Oh oh oh!