Beige Voices Poem by Marcel Aouizerate

Those petty thieves emptied the museum

During the longest night of winter

Piece by piece and lowering their voices

As they were getting close for a te Deum or for a kiss

It wasn't a sorry affair, this heist in the winter

They went as far as removing the colors

From the pictures, until the characters' voices

Turned beige under the brightest moon

Until past rage became the longest age

And their story was heard by the common ear