I belong to no land,
To no government,
Where I was born,
I happen to lost.
As situation,
Forced me out,
In the heat and rain,
Without warmth and in pain,
Walking on stony roads,
With the weight on my shoulders,
My last treasure hangs.
With every trifle I have,
I carry with me my lost heaven.
Now the hope of a new land,
A new home,
Which I and the people like me,
Can call their own,
A land,
Where there is water to quench thirst,
Heat to prepare food,
Roof to protect from rain,
Clothes to warm,
Dreams to dream,
Ideas to implement,
Friends to play,
And a family to live with happily.
Now to me,
That dream seems to be an impossible one,
Living with your loved ones too demanding,
Asking for fair play too idealistic,
And asking such a land too Utopian.
14/07/09
(About the worsening conditions and bleak emotional support of the more than twenty million refugees of today's world.)
Hopes and dreams in life...and the staring realities...you combine all these facts nicely inside your poem Winnie...good piece...thanks...10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
THANK YOU WINNIE FOR OPENING MY EYES TO ANOTHER SAD ISSUE... THAT OF REFUGEES... REGARDS ALF