If the sun won't rise again,
And my world is swallowed by darkness
Whence no ray would reach
And I can't discern the east from west
And tell the black from the white
I know I will miss the beauty of the sky
The bloody sunset view,
from the mountains Far East.
I will miss their beautiful faces.
Oh how I would love to see,
The image of my aging face,
the smiles of those little kids.
But whence revolutionaries come
Shouting liberation chants,
I will join the march down the street
And sing a freedom songs
If I became leprosy
That no humanity dare stand
which without latex hand
no doctor will dare touch
I know I will miss their embraces,
Every touch of a loving palm
But with every music of nature
I will cover my pupils and laugh
And with every touch of a breeze
When the liberation army stomps
I will whistle a freedom song
if my world went dumb again,
so loud in a numbing silence
that I cant hear my heart beat
and my little children cry
I walk out the door at dawn
and the birds are singing with signs
and the magical whistles of zephyr
so lost in a world unknown
How I will miss their rhetoric
The sound of their critic
And their eloquent inspirations
But if you sent a liberation army
I will write liberation placards
and hum a liberation song,
in the march down the street
you see God,
If I was to turn soil and soul today
And this is my last breath
I'll still sing your liberation song
Though I lose all you have given me
I still have many reasons
To say thank you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem