What makes men mourn when the sun goes
being overcome by the darkness of the night?
August Laughter turn into tears when harvesting
year's work gradually disappears, sinks
forgotten.
The saw those who came, brown and split
The green meadows of spring, yellow summer
that was once a village, now days vitiated
to mere visitors, who no longer seek yields
but beautiful landscapes.
Are not the fruit fields and work of men?
Were not
livelihoods and foodof those who had nothing?
Do not rejoice in it found the powerless?
What happened to those who lost everything,
those who never had anything
only calluses on their hands?
When consciousness was lost,
when consent to that the "horse boot"
become lifelong parameters donkey?
Why not raise men,
why not return the spirit of the brown?
The future is uncertain, hard years are
but come hardest years
and not pass in vain.
you return the men to emigrate?
leave " the beloved land?
What will the hard tree?
0 comments:
Post a Comment