Passion

O people of this village

Do not think that I came here

to sell the remains of love

sticking to the tail of my dress …

open not your mouth, in shock

Hide not the eyes of your children

If their eyes explored the details of my aching body.

the brown wheat in your fields

is addicted to my perfume

and the flames of your burning summer

awakens the lust for life

that sleeps in my veins

I’m the widow of injustice

walking your streets,

Wearing the thirst of years

and years of sadness

I come in peace

to revive in you

What once lived in you

What now dies in you

The “Passion for life.”

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