People in cities are migrants,
Necessarily faceless, rootless.
To show their faces and hide their roots,
They appear more than they are,
For which they earn any how,
Inflicted by low esteem syndrome.
To live in peace go to your village
In the end with no need to pretend.
22.08.2010.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem