She moves with the kind of beauty
That only an inner stillness brings
A knowledge;
A certainty
So, maybe the trades of this land
Will wander through her beautiful long hair
Or, maybe this breeze will lead her to misunderstand
What was meant when we said to be silent
We must all pray for her;
This strength of hers that very well may have seen much sadness
We must pray for good fortune
Because we all know, sadly, that anything could happen
I’ve seen them, the ones who look back after decades
of broken dreams;
The ones who say
She’s pretty, she’s strong, she belongs to us
If it were only enough,
If only we could promise her
If only this happy, self-assured smile of hers could protect her
from here on out
If only we could bargain with the hidden places in her heart
Shh…listen…
Her children will have her laugh
And she will watch them, happy and carefree,
and think of the wind
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem