I looked near, far and aound
From two thousand and eight to two thousand and late
Even from when I was just four few feet from the ground
Yet I have not seen before this kind of fate
The time I recall was 1963 you were born
When the meadow so green and the sky so blue
When those funny men from the west were gone
They had spread and bred like a bad flew
And now you grew into a man alone
You were then persecuted by your own
You came from the central and you were knocked with a stone
From the west that machette departed your forskin and they won
As if that was not enough
They made your sons and daughters homeless
nd when the road got even rough
The widows and the orphans became hopless
Yet they were not satisfied with all that
They butchered and squeezed life out of you
And all of all you forgave them all for all that
Like the story and the life of a meek ewe
Then your love became that of christos
When you chose them to guide you in the path of light
Those Herods and cruel Pilatos
And the world watched in fright
From Los Angeles, Oxford and Dos Santos
Yet theystill ruled in cruelty and in delight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem