The river runs from our hearts
Through the busy streets.
We see not its clear impurity.
It is carrying venoms
From us through the crowd.
But who cares.
Crippled and naked today
Dreaming how we sucked
Air from the flat breast
Of our mothers yesterday.
And of tomorrow
How we will be laid.
The river carries these matters
But who cares.
The tortured minds
Of a million young ones
Running with hard grass
And powders.
The river runs clear
But who cares.
There would have been
Enough milk
If not for these ‘nation breakers’
The river runs
From our hearts
Through the streets
Onto our lives
But who really cares?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem