I am yawning
Like everyone else
Running for everything
Praying still for the bounties
Instead of thanksgiving
I run and stumble
Galloping like a stallion
On a thoroughfare that
Is supposed to be macamadized
In my homeland
But remains unpaved
By the plunder of the public wealth.
I am in the dark
My shadow
Is near but far away
I am gropping
Gropping for everything
Around that is not available
Still I am gropping
Gropping in the land of bounties
With the absent succour.
I am standing
In the middle of the ocean
With a parched throat
And soapsuds in my eyes
Everything is exiled
Except me, a prisoner
Gaoled in my own home
As the social contract
Is violently violated.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem