The Waltz Of The Werewolves Poem by Hebert Logerie

At high noontime, the tires are burning in the streets
The sound of barking dogs is everywhere; the cats of hell smell
Like never showered rats who are locked up in death row cells
Where the air does not go through sealed windows
No, my friends, I'm not dreaming; it's a nightmare. The sun
Is warming the pavement and the worms are coming out
En masse. The ravines are crowded with small children
That I could never imagined or seen with clear and open eyes
From such a bizarre, awkward, frantic and satanic scene
They're talking about revolution, that sounds spooky and crazy
Because we must talk about kindness, evolution, education
Before contemplating such a magical or drastic motion
Everything is aflame. The palace is on fire and the buildings
Are red, inflamed. Oh! Yes, it is a total and capital fiasco
All of this is to show the wickedness of the vile jackals
The wild beasts which enjoy killing daughters and sons
At noon, in daylight, the malefactors have no shame to hate
Loot and burn everything they could neither imagined, nor created
And built. These werewolves come from nowhere, from the wars
Of hell, we wonder. We only know that we can't afford to live where
Vile and wild animals can easily seize the streets manu militari
For any new extenuating excuses, pretexts or fabricated reasons
Where are the technocrats and the intellectuals of the past?
A thin and weak voice coming from nowhere replied cowardly:
They are all hidden or incarcerated in coffers infested with lice
This explains why the werewolves are waltzing in the dusty streets
In mid-afternoon where high priests and high pastors walk on bridges
In ruins and normal toddlers no longer go to church. How awful, the pigs
Are well dressed, during the rainstorm, where the contaminated air
Escapes and embalms the disconcertedly distressed firmament
What misery for a group of goons who are equally surly and jubilant!

Copyright © March 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
This is a translation of the poem La Valse Des Loups-Garous by Hébert Logerie