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Standing before your deliberating presence,
Obscurely hidden in robust form;
My eyes thirst,
To quench the fire before me;
Can you hear the cries of the Third Ward,
As they endure the scalding heat from above!
Heaven answers with appeasement,
Sending a song bird this way.
For the nightingale sings to the frivolous youth,
With infinite dreams of tommorow;
Of a land consumed in madness,
By the betterment of self-upheaval.
A thousand orphans Lady Elgin bore,
as Augusta scythes her spleen;
A lovers quarrel born at sea,
careens between duels this day.
As her hull sinks to darkness,
Under grey lactating clouds;
Mothers of Kilbourntown embrace,
Juneautown sisters estranged,
beseeched with abridging hugs.
Who will tender to our children?
Tucked beneath a latent moon;
Who will adhere to our convictions?
And give them warmth tonight.
Love will pasture on withered fields,
bringing winters howl to rest;
Blossom towards a tepid sun,
timidly dilating at hand.
From a distance I can see,
two friends beyond the hill;
A scarecrow shadowed at eve,
With a sparrow on its sleeve.
Oh! If I could hold this moment a little more,
threshing the corn evermore;
Sifting the kernels with a supple touch,
Sitting by an open door.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem