{The storyteller:}
It was in two thousand and fifteen
And Christmas was approaching
And as in fifteen hundred and fifteen
The children were waiting
The problem ¨me was there,
Very proud in front of our doors
We were pale and weary
In front of the big woodlice
There was no more sugar
The Earth no longer gave any
It had dug its sepulchre
And no longer responded!
At a golden price
Sister Saccharine sold her prayers, Le Beau
Yes but then,
There is no point scraping the stone anymore! The Simpleton
{The storyteller:}
It was in two thousand and fifteen
And Christmas was approaching
And like in fifteen hundred and fifteen
The children were waiting ,
And the hours that flew by
As quick as the bird
And the dogs that died
Sniffing the water
There was no more salt
The Earth no longer gave any,
To make sugar we took salt,
Two thousand fourteen or thirteen, I don't know anymore!
{The child:}
And the stick always victorious
Sowing sadness on our atoll,
Making our motor hearts waltz
In a dreary farandole
{The storyteller:}
It was in two thousand and fifteen
And Christmas came
It was in two thousand and fifteen
For the children without joy,
In front of their green fir trees
With plastic branches,
Like puppet figurines
In periodic napkins,
Their faces turned gray,
Their eyes became neon,
They had gone to war
To suck a piece of candy!
The children died
One by one, crying,
Breathed their last breath,
Became beautiful as before.
Indifferent and abandoning the drama,
The thirsty parents lick the tears
Of their frustrated children,
Why you say?
Because they were sweet!

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