Every now and then I leaf through pages
of the book written by Agee and Evans
about the dirt-poor tenant farmers
in Alabama in the summer of 1936
*All over Alabama the lamps are out*
Two stores and four shacks at a crossroads
called Madrid, just 7 miles to Cookstown,
where 300 souls reside
Children in school there stay alive
by one form or another of cowardice
or brutality or deception
Taught in a time of drought
by teachers themselves sick
and helpless before the great
depression of the thirties
*All over America the lights were out*
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem