My village is in Borneo.
We were headhunters formerly.
But the times are changing, and so
We're civilized or try to be.
But the oil palm plantations are
Cutting down the forests around
The village, leaving land in scar,
With no life left on barren ground.
We've tried to appeal to conserve,
But the plantations balk in greed,
And tell us that we have some nerve
To talk of conservation need.
So if talking does fail, instead
We're gonna have to hunt some head.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem