A herd of docile cows
Live tight in their enclosure.
Day after day they line up
And give milk in the big pot.
One of them ruminates on envy
To escape, to change your life,
be free like the birds
And hurtle down all the hills.
“Poor madwoman,” said her mother,
Others before you have tried,
And very quickly we get them back
Before making ground beef. »
The rebel does not let herself be dismantled.
She replied to the whole assembly:
“If these unfortunates have not succeeded,
It is that they have tried their bet alone.
Freedom, you can’t win it
Only in a movement of solidarity.
I don’t want to run away from you,
I want to run away with you.
All for one and one for all!
Follow me to the end!
And joining the gesture to the talk,
With one leap, she jumps the fence.
Inflamed by these inspiring words,
Jump with her the whole herd.
They are about twenty in the clearing
To play the truant,
Hiding during the day
And feasting after dark.
It lasts for weeks, then months,
They themselves can’t believe it:
“How is it that humans
With all their big things,
Can’t catch up with us?
The rebel explained it well:
— To succeed, you have to coordinate;
For that, humans are dead last.
And they frolic! And they frolic!
Becoming the stars of society,
To Everybody talks about it they are invited,
But they fear being trapped.
They find themselves in a wooded area
Not far from paved roads.
A graceful deer approaches them:
“Are you the wandering cows of Saint-Barnabé?”
They answer “moo” and make the beautiful.
— Welcome to Michel-Chartrand Park,
The father of the rebellious in sacrament!
The deer continues, looking worried:
“What are you going to do in the winter?”
How will you get through?
“We’ll do like you, deer friend:
We search the woods and help ourselves.
“I don’t want to scare you,
But freedom is not always happiness.
Take me: they want to drive me away,
With an arrow pierce me.
— But why so much cruelty
Towards such a well-behaved Bambi?
“Because I bring them nothing,
So they don’t want my good.
If, you, they want to repatriate you,
It’s not for your beautiful big cow eyes
Nor for the arrangement of your spots,
It’s because of the milk you give them.
So it is with beings and beasts, here:
Our only value is that which we relate to others.
No profit, no good life.
The cows are very shaken
By so much lucidity.
Will they continue to ride
At the risk of dying?
Or will they return to the paddock
To be numbers?
The moral of this story :
Who knows…