Trickle trickle
Two water drops pierce the air
Falling from a far stare of trees
In this rainforest there's a breeze
Breathe in the mud, make you sneeze
Damp dirt, condensation rises and falls onto earth
Adobe houses, women, torn shirts
Sit in grass skirts, listen to the birds chirp
Like a sharp whistle or a popped burp from a pistol
Carried only by valored soldiers
Indians warn don't step any closer
Arrowheads will have them pinned like their faces printed on a poster
Child missing like bread from a toaster
One life to hoister and hold tall
Taller than Kilimanjaro, from the top they are rolled
Lives unfold, at the fire stories are told
Myths read from a buffalo book to hold
Legend says the youth will live always to the old
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem