Read at Radio Univers, UG. 15th Jan. 07.
Would my motherland develop?
I see children nude and barefooted
Like our ancestors
Round stomach and dark faces
Would my motherland develop?
I see mothers with six-year old children
At their cozy back to market
And the classrooms are empty
Would my mother land ever develop?
I fear that which I perceive
Rulers in waste of words
And we grow worse
I see dead people
Dead souls on our lands face
Mingling with the living
With wretchedness on their face
If and when we would decide to read poetry or a piece of discerning article a day, our world is, then headed for a change. No magic potion whatsoever: if there were, politicians would have used it a long time ago. Our mind is all that we have; the only exception to tricks of all corners and angles. Enjoy the luxury and peace of poetry...
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