Alone winding through
Thick green forest
Broken at savanah points
Yawning ponds laughing
At the galloping cars
Swimming pools
Of the croaking toads
Great dentures on the saw
Of the aged asphalt.
Long made
Long abandoned.
Thoroughfare of the talakawas
Of the emasculated taxpayers.
Running to and fro
Freighting cows and bleating goats
Shipping watermelons, carbages
Onions, bell peppers and sweat peppers
Tomatoes and all
The afluent will eat.
The honorables take off
Oblique at points where the road
Is not seen above in the sky
And the senescent way
Lives with its age
Here and there
Winding through grasses and trees
Where lorries clang on
As if utensils are their wares
And all that we do
Is to vote, vote and vote
For the samenesss of the road.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem