To every
single thing
that comes
in my stride.

From the
winds which
play sweet melodies
like the fragrance
of the flowers
that bounce
down the vale.

From the
rivers which
fetch the trees
a thousand
tiny drops
of sea
so creamy
and rich
that I see the
foliage turn greener.

From the
sights of men
who wish to
see me
as their lover
as i smile
and beam
over riverbanks and
meadows sitting
beside the daisies
singing ballads
and they,
reciting refrains
that I may
be theirs.

From the
lakes and the
mountains which
hold me
in their arms
forever.
and as I kiss
the sorrel ground,
I make the colours
go into
the doors
of rainbows.

Now, as
I look with
my hazel eyes
which try to
look through the
obsidian curtains
of hair
that slip
all over me,
I arch my back
and sit on
the greenest patch
of blades
with my skirt
clinging onto
my thighs and my
skin running smooth,
I dream
a dream
of a world
following me.

But I lie
with whips
striking
hard on me,
my closed eyes
under the oppressive
darkness.
Because I
was born one
and will be one
and I am
one
who owns
not a part of
the world.
Not trees,
not lakes,
not fields,
not vales,
not my shadow,
not stars,
not sun,
not moon
but a million
broken hopes.