Translated by Yiyan HAN(c)
2008-01-22 (last modified 2017-12-24)
My motherland ain't going to loathe beggars and the homeless
My motherland encourages people to voice their concerns
And gradually tolerates different opinions
O, motherland
You aren't afraid of love and freedom
You allow people to wear trendy short skirts and low-waisted jeans
O, motherland, what a wonderful motherland
You won't expel poets from the country
You won't fool people with a false democracy
O, my motherland, it's me who'd say sorry to you
I've begged and led a dissolute life on your boundless territory
I've kidnapped your beautiful folk songs to scream and cry
O, my motherland, it's me who'd say sorry to you
I've let your sunny sky full of dark clouds
I've picked flowers on your land to mourn kindness
O, my motherland, it's me who'd say sorry to you
I've cut down your forest to set fire
I've been selling your land like my body
I've robbed your wealth to buy sex
I've taken your innocence to commit crimes
O, motherland
You're no longer shy away from truth and justice
You no longer bully people into sacrificing themselves
O, my motherland, it's me who'd say sorry to you
I've conducted an undeniable massacre in your beautiful spring
I've let your scales of justice lose dignity
O, my motherland, it's me who'd say sorry to you
I've used your prisons to jail your innocent people
I've used your soldiers to suppress their own brothers and sisters
O, my motherland, it's me who'd say sorry to you
I've used all power in my hands to sell your soul
I've armed with knife and gun to defend your corruption
I've used your sea water to drown your fleet
I've made your people starved to death on your land
A very powerful and intriguing piece for your Motherland. A thought provoking. It bites on all angles. It takes a gallant one to write this kind of poem. Well penned.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem was not written in an ivory tower. It is written in the tradition of intellectuals who take responsibility upon themselves. The poet desperately holds onto the sacred ideal of a motherland. But where is this sacred motherland? Does adherence to this ideal really uplift us? The existential crisis in this poem is not limited to citizens of one particular country.
Thank you, Denis. Good questions and excellent remarks. Yes, the issues addressed in this poem are somewhat universal......