I am here meeting with things
And their opposites
I have made efforts
With my head, hands and legs
The challenge is my country
This bent stick that is dry
Who will straighten it
Without it snapping into pieces?
I have tried my voice not shrill enough
And it lands in a market square
What little I know
They decipher not
They do not care if what I say
Doesn't print mints into their pockets
I am here
It is worthwhile
Only history listens to me
And that will be tomorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem