the girls toiling in the fields,
turned grey in the summer heat
That silken girl from the tribe of Stones
Had imprisoned herself in the towers of tradition
In a charmed palace of self-deception she sat,
Listening to the flowers sing an epic of loneliness.
Taller than my father
And my mother won.
Chirrups on the rooftop
From the womb of the night
A tiny ray of Light was thus born:
Night uncurled the lovely pink fists of Dawn
read her palm
This last experience made it clear to me:
despite your talents,
despite being tall and handsome as a man,
you're still a boy
rise and chip the mountains
mountains of deed traditions
The books said:
God lives in
Yellow flowers-loving girl,
how long will you fear the girl inside you;
tell me, how long will you fight yourself?