Being a boy of the hand and foot
of honorable highs, of desolation lows
walking one morning, or crawling one morning
I arrived in the market, I arrived in the square.
The vendors lined the streets,
the poor lined the streets.
the devil tattood my left hand.
The poor venders lined the square.
They plucked my lashes,
but when I found god,
I plucked my hand strings.
To do this again, Id deny my crime,
and point my finger elsewhere,
It's better to give than recieve,
(it's better to steal)
Being a boy of the land
I cut away my hand
and planted highs and planted lows.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I Love this, It is amazing, it is so well written. I will be looking for more, this is, very, very good