She has the hue from white to black,
Somewhere she is red and a shock,
After stripping and leveling the rock,
From the distance she is barren and naked,
Battered from all sides and left to face the cold,
And the hot winds, water and the sunken looks,
When the buried seeds from her womb start to grow,
And cover her bosom, she is clothed again in respect.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hope it will be clothed in respect. We see many hills leveled to ground and colonies built. Nature must be preserved. Thank you.