My country, it is not the sweet Portugal
AND yet I love Fado, the wine of the Douro,
My country is not beautiful Italy, nor Rome,
And yet I love Naples, Palermo, and Florence,
It’s not Haiti or Salvador de Bahia,
It’s the Dolce Vita and Eight and a half, in black and white,
I like all the films by Fellini or Antonioni,
My country, it is not the illustrious talkative France
AND yet I like Jurançon and Monbazillac,
I like beef bourguignon and duck with orange,
My country, it’s not California, or Utah,
AND yet I like Monument Valley, Hollywood Boulevard,
I love the Grand Canyon and Los Angeles at night,
My country, it is not so political Turkey,
But I love Istanbul and sleepy Cappadocia,
It’s the Dolce Vita and Eight and a half, in black and white,
My country is the cinema, it’s the privileged place
Where will the train stop from your indolent and black eyes,
It is beyond, the bridge of lascivious embraces, the bridge of the Iroise
It’s the country I like when you play for me alone, O my action.
NB La Dolce Vita and eight and a half, are two masterpieces by Fellini.
A poem is not enough to live, to love,
We must savor many other small pleasures,
A banana split or a pear Belle Hélène,
An appointment with a barber in Izmir,
Poetry doesn’t heal from every misfortune
Sometimes you have to look at her where she’s not,
Cook a boeuf bourguignon, a sole meunière,
Invite a friend happier than you.
One must dream of eating pizza in Naples,
From a banana split we’re imagine for in Oregon,
You should know that a poem is only a mistake
Among all the true gifts life offers you.