perhaps we did not really suffer much
as her
how she survived the wars
of her lifetime
her prison years, her encounters with deaths
that life which cut off with her
when she badly needed a lift
she deserves her choice of words
the halo in her head
the earth has been too unfair with her
we have the comfort of our paradise
we drink water from the well
had hot baths during the colder seasons
food is served on the table
our cows have so much milk for our drinking
our pastures satisfied with rain
our trees teeming with fruits
seas with fish, rivers with clarity
and beauty
we deserve our shallowness
our words have lesser gloss, and the sun laughs
at our own chosen mediocrity
we cannot be great as she was
but in some sense, in fairness sake, we are greater still
in the comfort of our own sands
the integrity of our soil
the domestication of our hearts
the stability of our familiarity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem