Unless you live in a place
Where your father and his, lived,
You will miss being seen as a tree.
Instead,
You will die as a twig or a branch.
Unless you have in a place
Three generations having lived,
You will fail losing a native place,
The place that preserves your identity.
Rampant migration that is in force
Will deprive the present generation
Of what their forefathers enjoyed.
07.12.2007
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
your poem expresses the sorrow of a migrant owrker i can really empathise with it being one like you :)) nice write.....