my brothers,
don't look at me being blonde
i am an asian
don't care my blue eyes
i am an african
the trees don't make a shadow under themselves there
just like yours there
where i live, money doesn't grow on trees
dragons lie over the fountains
and one dies there before his fifty
just like you do there
don't look at me being blonde
i am an asian
don't care my blue eyes
i am an african
the eighty per cent of my people doesn't know how to read
the poems wanders around from one mouth to another by being a folk song
the poems can be a flag where i live
like where you live
my brothers
our poems must be trotted beside the skinny ox
and plough the field
they must go into the mud in the rice fields
till their knees
they must ask all the questions
they must collect all the light
they must stand by the road
like a milestone
they must see the approaching enemy before anyone
they must beat the tamtams in the jungles
and till there won't be a single capture land, a single capture person
till there won't be one single atomic cloud in the sky
our poems must give all their property, common sense, and whatever thay have
to the great freedom
Endless Climb
I am blind
Why can't I hear?
Color blind
Speaking a phrase
Instantly grown
I am blind
Waiting in line