In the beginning of American history:
not so much was taken for granted,
it was taken from the Indian.
As soon as, Christopher Columbus
or someone, related to him by color arrived,
and touched the shores of North America,
the air became "historically, " uneasy to breathe,
for anyone not thinkin' French or speakin' English.
So many imported
to this new land,
became slaves: to dark stolen property,
by tryin' to master
what the "environment" had powers over,
the Indians really owned,
that would one day build
the "real natives" in the distant future
a few Casinos on Reservations
that had in-door plumbing.
In the beginning of:
the colonial history of America:
so many who illegally arrived
(which has nothing to do with Mexicans) ,
tried raising crops and some times,
many foreign intruders failed,
but after century and century
of these Caucasian people trying,
the white man,finally became very successful.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem