WOMAN OF MY LAND
With this small infinity surrounding you
in every situation you cannot be satisfied.
Because, you are powerful and glorious,
Not without pedigree
There is no exit in your soul.
They want to break you, mold you,
accustom you to pain
Make a doll of you,
with restricted movements in the large joints
The more difficult to you it is,
the more beautiful your soul’s scent
Gold coins glowing in the eyes
When the dew falls on your face,
they will collect rose water from it.
Translated by Keith Doubt
The preceding text is copyright of the author and/or translator and is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.