My heart bleeds
to wet the barren land of my miserable people
In the hope that one day these lands will turn green
and there will grow red flowers
I will gather the seeds of those flowers
because these are from my blood.
I am like those brave youths
Who have been ambushed by the enemy.
Injured by sword, they are lying hopeless
in a vast desert without water.
Hungry wolves are waiting to eat their flesh
after they breathe their last breath.
But I tell them not to be off guard:
Revered mothers will bear
such invincible sons again.
(Ibid., p. 63)
The one, whose hands are red
with my blood, says he is pure;
The other, like a jackal who has stolen my pouch,
boasts of being a tiger;
The third who has snatched a portion of my shawl,
and has an eye on my shirt,
says: "I am your brother";
The fourth one is so courteous
that I am frightened.
(Ibid., p. 64)
We do not want your buildings
do not set our huts on fire;
We do not require your forts,
do not surround our hills;
We do not need your stores,
do not ravage our fields;
We do not demand your ships,
do not destroy our boats;
We do not desire your crafts
do not snatch our camels;
We do not aspire to your armours,
do not break our arms;
Do not oppose us lest you may be oppressed by a superior spirit.
(Ibid., p. 66)
