I am running through the woods so tired and hungry, afraid to be seen immigrating illegally. My knees are scratched my blouse torn.Oh what my mother would have said! Then I see a light not of a hunter but of a van.Out of the van emerges a man.At first I panic then i see the scar on his face, it had a mark I knew and hated, that of a whip.Well, I am on my way to America, The Land of the Free.That was the light of freedom aay!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem