On that old day – How could it be neglected?
The scientist Bruno went on to the pyre
As if he was taking a stroll, unaffected;
He re-affirmed to the frenzied abusers of fire:
reverently dedicated to my dear Dad’s spirit
Whilst boarding the aircraft to fly towards the ocean
How harrowing were the days Dad got imprisoned:
Mom could hardly sleep, got her eyes wet, rings wizened.
Gnawing the tiny rootstock Mom spared for me: how sad!
I was so hungry, Dad!
I have left my children to save my own hide
While I could not have prepared them for life
With their kids nobody knows what would betide
To their future and towards which how to strive.
After the year two thousand, I will be still alive,
And so will other animals and worms.
There still will be vegetables and germs,
And mundane life as ever, rain or shine.