Long ago our courage deserted us
Thought soon froze in its tracks
Our spiked hair rose to the sky
As the cold air bit into our bones
White rain poured on thatched roofs
Forming yellow snakes of waters
And outside the rusted window rails
On the yellow- dropped leaves
Yesterday was the day of cockfights
The birds stared at their bound legs
Waiting to bleed their bird-friends
Our white fluid glistened in the pots
We went high on smelly rice drinks
We made a rope circle among trees
That was the bloody arena for cocks
Our basket threw up big plastic dice
Our village youth staked day’s labor
Our children now have blue uniforms
They will one day be clerks in office
Our women continue transplanting rice
Our gods have stopped being angry
Whatever we did in billowing skirts
Our moment never came, actually
Inclusiveness submerged all, just like
Yellow sick-sweet fly-riding pulp
The fiery snake slithered quickly away
The fluidity of confusion remained.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem