My tear is my betrayal and defeat before merchandizes
I slave, I weep at the rivers of Babylonyelling in heart
Refusing to sing a love song for their meat seller smells.
Rats rattle the bonesof dead deep in the alleys of the streets
I shall sing my song of heat before your puny gold
I sleep deep when a slithering hand explores my curves,
I never pretend to be his or them for I have none
To praise or lean on at night; I sleep on bare land
A stone may be my pillow. I being hunted by hunters
But I am a glacial log that has no desire or palpitations
My tear is my betrayal for I never cry or I never sigh.
I slave, I weep at the rivers of Babylon and I never sing
In exchange for filthy gold that has no feel at all.
I sat at night in silence sick of the mocking civilization
I am an innocent mammal in a Jurassic land
Having no escape but being victimized then and there
I am meek but I seek my revenge by shutting down
My soul ever and ever not even before thy God, who
Shall not be mine though I too prayed to him to be the Lord.
Any salvation together: how shall I share the same heaven?
[ "By the waters of Babylon there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion" - Psalms,137.1; "By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept..." - T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land, The Fire Sermon.183; "By the rivers of Babylon" - Bony M.]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem