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Cargo Cult (Cargo Culte)
I know of the sorcerers who summon the jets From the jungles of New Guinea They survey the skies coveting the money That pillaging would bring them from that freight On the Coral Sea, in the wake of that Machine, those creatures who have no need Of reason, those Papuans wait to see The wreck of an Airbus and of a Comet And because their totem hasnít ever been able to bring down Either a Boeing or even a Fokker to the ground They dream of hijacks and of collisions with gulls Those naive ship-wreckers armed now With blowguns who make sacrifice to the cargo cult As towards the sky and the airplanes their poison darts are bound Where are you Melody and your lost frame Is it haunting the archipelago where the sirens are becalmed? Or is it clinging to the plane whose alarm Siren has gone silent, did you remain? Floating on the currents, have you already found Those luminous corals of the Guinean coasts and sailed Where those indigenous sorcerers still hope in vain For planes to be brought to the ground? Having nothing to lose nor a God to believe in And so that they might return my trivial passions I, like them, I call to the night cargo planes And I hold onto that hope of an aviation disaster That would bring Melody back again A child taken captive by the lure of the stars there What was your name? Melody Melody what? Melody Nelson
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