In our place
Trees dance in absence of wind
Dust celebrate in the miry site
Moon brightens the day
Sun luminates the night
Comforts laid six feet beneath the crust
And climbing down, folks did willy-nilly.
In our place
We are shepherdless sheep
Grazing the graveous field
Since the day we funerated our culture under the light of the intruders
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem