C

         You never gave me wealth

always devastated by the races of Continents

         and always praised by their arrogance!

The North took the grapevine

        and the South took the Wheat Ear

buying out the direction of the wind

         and profanely cashing in the trees’ wealth

two or three times.

         But I knew nothing

other than the thyme in the sun’s pin

         and I felt nothing

but the water drop on my unshaven beard

         yet I laid my rough cheek on the stone’s rougher

century after century.

         I slept on the concern of my tomorrow

like the soldier by his rifle.

         And I searched for the compassion of the night

like an ascetic his God.

         Out of my sweat they created a diamond

and secretly they replaced

         the virgin of my glance.

They weighted my joy and they found it light, they said,

         and they stepped on it like an insect.

They stepped on my joy and encased it in stone

         and lastly they left me the stone

a horrible likeness of me.

         They strike it with a heavy axe, they bore it with a sharpened scalpel

they carve my stone with a bitter chisel.

         And as time erodes the matter, the prophesy emerges

clearly out of my face:

         FEAR THE WRATH OF THE DEAD

       AND THE STATUES OF THE ROCKS

https://www.lulu.com/account/projects/vznd2p https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763513