Another
Another day broke…
Unlike then when I worked
In workshop with the wool
That soaked in soap-water,
Then rolled and flattened
To make mats, also caps
Or time of repairing
China and clay ware
Using lime, white of egg
Or climbed the trees
(Plucking ripe fruits,)
I sit and review bygone day
It was hot, earth scorched
(In hell felt young and old,)
Being me, what I am
I felt good and enjoyed
The morning's perfume
Of roses, those ignored,
Then, smell of midday
From the patios
Where grass shed tear
When scissor cut the neck
Or for losing friends;
Steam of corpse of dead.
Then, in the evening
Came, riding on breeze
Smell of the trees'
Thirsty and burning leaves.
I love you my mother;
Supreme, is Nature.
I dislike the cities.
Love to live at home of
My childhood
In the mountains, plains
Near the deserts, woods.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem