one best thing is this:
we write from the bottom of our hearts,
guessing that perhaps this is what others feel too.
we simply describe our state of mind,
in the most simple way understandable by that common man on the street
a fish vendor if he reads that we are feeling like rotten fish
if you tell him, how rotten fish smells and what a wasted feeling is
it when it is there unsold
look at his face? make him understand that we are all vendors of
our feelings, that our feelings sometimes do not sell,
he will understand that,
everything is classified as a commercial act
writing, speaking, wooing,
what a humiliation of what we really are
hawkers of beliefs, ambulant chasers of emotions
what a demeaning purpose,
this must stop, it is not real, it is a prostitution of our
faith,
we write from the bottom of our hearts
and you feel it, that is why you are following the sounds of drums
at the center of the island
where we grow a bonfire, where smoke rises to the sky
where evenings become so lighted, where dance assumes true meaning
our shadows are pure, our bodies own them
and the moon at night makes them all alive
you are telling me that this fire is invisible
and it has not switch for you to put it off.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem, like it.