Saturday, March 29, 2014

Million parts and he still alive

Million parts and he is still alive
Perhaps a loaf of bread in dignity
Perhaps as a human finding a shelter
Perhaps he would see his mournful daughter
Who she lost her a plastic doll
Let he himself could kill the idol
Between the alfalfas near the black hill
He lost her forever
He bought for her a bit of sugar
To himself, why am I hummer!
Her pink rose still cast away
Near the railway
Dimly and silently they went away
Without saying good by
And the guffawing children still nonchalantly
Monkey with their trifle Sun
Always they would mock at Fate
As if their mock sun laughs
In the part of their black Angel
A penny they have to buy bread
No shelter, no firebrand
Even the white-yellowy hen was killed 
In a stormy night staving their orchards
To whom would he answer?
To the gone away caravans!
Or to the tear still jailed in his eyelids.