I find my way back home
When I finally win my due.
The due that I owned to my state
To fight for our liberty.
I remember the routes the journeys,
The memories of intrepid.
Going back home to peace
No more will I feel the pain of loss
No longer am I going to sleep in blood
Not at all shall I perceive the unease
Of bathing in thorns.
My wounds have been bigger with fear
And doubting the spare of my life
I slept with open eyes.
Tears washed my face
Bullets woke me up.
Thorns embraced my cover
And like ticks the enemy slaughtered my hopes.
Sweat has been drained out
The least I could give out,
But bloodshed peered through my pores
Sweat and blood transpire through my veins
And I can only live to testify the pain.
Either way, of all odds the guillotine was released.
The mark of a true champion
Is to know what battles to fight.
Indeed I have fought the good fight of faith
Indeed I have remained faithful to the end.
I have finished the race
I am going home at last
Home a place we all belong
Were rest awaits my coming,
To feel my flesh heal and my spirit restore.
My colleagues come with me
Let us chew the born of triumph
To settle justice for the course of our children.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem