—How stupid you are, people
Throwing stones at their signs
They have the right to stop you from passing
Through the city where they are
They have bought
They have paid
They have rebuilt ruins
That collapsed thirty years ago
Through the indifference of our Countrymen
Who go to town to buy a plot
—A hundred thousand francs per square meter–
After they’ve sold their mills
Or their farms to the Foreigner
For a mere trifling
You’re stupid, people
Beating stones against their signs
Beat instead your own breasts.

September 1967

Translated by Lenora Timm

This poem in breton

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