Born in an ambivalent state where hope even seems unwise
The naked eyes of poverty, black too with tears that soaked up light
Sorrow and Lack, his daily companions, stealing the sheets at night
Somehow mere survival reduced his fears, nurtured dreams of life
Like a seed dropped on dry, bare ground, rain visited only imagination
Protected only by dust of his native land, he bore the seasons passing
Harsh winds, though change at least, nurtured not a whit
The future too seemed as black as his own skin, genetic determinism.
His questions raged and copious were his tears, for hope was dying.
Each day seemed a new betrayal from a world of zero sum games
At night he would try to calculate how much pie if any was left
And pondered his guilt for taking crumbs from other mouths.
Yet as moon's feeble vision must yield at last to the light of dawn
So poetry itself brought a new kind of friendship to darker corners
Paved his way to new vistas on smoother stones that don't bruise feet
A friend once met, a future shared, dream realized, others he could help.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Like a seed dropped in dry ground, while you met your friend once that refines your memory. With hope the seed grows in to plant in watery land. Wonderful imagery.