The prunes

The jar of prunes?

Yes ? This very large jar?

Formerly full of prunes?

This tantalum pleasure?

A brave thief

Introduced his fingers

By seizing a choice

That made him great happiness.

When the owner

Wanted to know the intruder

The eye that knows how to keep quiet.

The suspicion lived,

In a disappointed confidence.

Jar … sealed on.

The fault of the prune?

Who wants to tempt the eater,

Very weak human weakness.

For the pleasure of some, 

not respecting the property of others, 

the harmonies disappear, 

making them come back takes time, 

when it is not too late to do it, 

what has disappeared destroys the 

balance of what remains .


ADAMA KONATE

Self. Esteem 



The days are gone painfully,

Without purpose, without joy,

Too slow,

A too heavy burden,

What a beautiful gift

That I have been dragging since childhood,

With constancy,

Prisoner of a sentence thrown at the chance of a discussion,

Who transformed my life into negation,

Who turned it off

As a candle is extinguished

In a forbidden breath.

But I have not finished shouting that I am,

Who I am,

I will make an ultimate foot-of-nose

To this life so measured,

Too well regulated,

I will not be what you expect,

I will fight to defend ideas,

That you may find footprints of too naive humanity,

Fists raised,

But with this serenity regained,

I will make my destiny

With the end,

Perhaps something crazier,

Moreover,

No more compromises,

Forgotten the image that we want to leave behind,

I will finally be Me,

Without faith or law,

With this joy of finally being recognized,

 I’ve been waiting so long …


ADAMA KONATE