BY DOUG KAZÉ
Can we be naked again
Where the fruits no longer hang on trees
Like stars do in the skies?
Can we take down the leaves on our waists,
Our bodies ridden with stain,
And not be ashamed again?
Can I still be bone of your bones
In this land of dust and stones?
Will I still be lovely?
Maybe I’m just being childish:
But how can I be rich
And my neighbours barely eat?
To be rich is to be a village stream:
It does dry up, but it does rush again
It’s normal to want to be the only one
Who lives in a ship and drives a beast
And looks divine in the eye of the weak, isn’t it?
But to be rich is to be a village tree:
Fruits do vanish, but they do appear again
(Shrug) Maybe, I’m just saying this
Because I’m still young and hungry
Maybe I’d understand when I become older and rich.