I Want to
I want to delve in crowded streets,
A tale,
Or a song,
Or an epic,
Stretching my ear to every laugh
And murmur.
I want to understand
What becomes wet in a smiling tear,
To understand
What is in a whoop sobbing like wind
Through broken ribs.
I want to
Ask who
Dreams of--- his dreams.
I want to
Ask who
Sufferers of--- his pains,
Of a poisoned drop
In his broken cup.
I want to remove the night
So, under its shade
No serpent hides,
Or creep behind its foot,
Spitting out a thousand taboo thoughts.
I want to
Awaken a dark world,
To shake a lamp,
Here, there,
Whose light is full of hopes,
Lighten a height and bent.
I want to be like others,
With an accuser, a plaintiff, and a court;
To have a dawn like theirs
A night like theirs, planting its stars in me,
To have a road like theirs
To pass through it,
As a story, a song, or an epic.
Call of a Nation
Go!
Die on the field, my son.
What good is that we live
And the world
Cannot build a house for me,
Cannot bring me a thing.
No road to the homeland,
No green land from my homeland.
Who knows,
If there is any green left in my land
Or a flower,
Bashfully asking about me,
And about a dawn in my son’s eye.
For the bitter wind
Is still invading the world.
Who knows
If it had left anything,
Of what my hand has planted,
Living in my homeland.
*
Die my son,
Die in the field, my son.
Be my road to the homeland.
Perhaps, as dead,
You will build me a house,
Lasting for ages in my eye.
And you will live
Despite death with the green,
In that flower,
In tomorrow’s dawn.
Die my son,
So long as you die to live.