today our voice
like an exiled king returns
to his throne
(in vain will you recall yesterday
with pride)
today our voice will recall yesterday
when you forced it to dance naked
in the rain and stoop in the sun
how does it feel to be cruel
to lift a king up before his children
to have them spit into his face
till he crumbled to dust till you burned
his name long carved in ebony beams?
you thought everything would mold and rust
never to smile like white souls of saints
do you hear the drums
and the trumps of feet?
listen…….. and listen again
this is not a song for you
it is a declaration
of allegiance to ourselves
since the mist is gone before the light
of the midnight sun
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem