when nothing is handed to us
we learn to acquire what we think we really need
this is the instinct of survival
and we do not depend on the power of the sun
or the mercy of the moon
we may ask the tiny stars to lend a little of their light
for the darkness of our nights
but when there is none even a flicker from
the stones will be enough
we learn to burn the dryness of our hearts
to create this innate fire
and when we realize what we really are
we begin to find for ourselves the truth
we create our own light and we share the warmth
we become ourselves and then they look at us
we gain so much courage and we do not mind them anymore
when nothing is handed
we learn for the first time that we have our hands to move
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem