he is proud
to be brown all over
not raw
neither overcooked
arrogance does not
however
make him brown
as in hardcore
ideologist
for he too loves
the blackness of the night
the orangeness of the sunset
the redness of the rose
the whiteness of
glossy paper
he loves brown
because that is what he is made of
humanity in shades
of rainbow colors
this, too, he loves to see
when it rains
and when the sun shines
early morning
between two cliffs
with a waterfall between
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem