it is not in the water and rice and dried fish alone
that they hunger
they, the mountain people hunger for more
of our preferential attention
attentive ears, caring hands, understanding mind
to assure them that they still have a place
in our hearts
that we have never abandoned them
i, too, hunger for their stories and poems,
and when we meet this time again,
it will be mutual.Now the city descends
to the river and hills, and the grassy plains.
Halfway between us, is this thin line of
hate suppressed, love rekindled, ambivalence
that seemingly still exist, this doubt, this mistrust,
this humanity trying to be free
and real.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem