| MY FAVORITE PLACE

As I sit under this tree

In the middle of a beautiful garden,

I look around and notice peace.

I hear no noise and I see no violence.

Fresh, clean air is what I breathe
Animals--Lions, wolves, bears, are all around.
They-are so beautifull, and they even come to me,
So I call Mitch, the mouse beneath the ground.

What is this place I speak about?

Is it paradise?

i; It has peace everywhere, no doubt--

: And the men and women are so wise.

I awake and notice that it was just a dream.
There is no peace in this land in which we live.
There is just hatred in a bad scene.

No one will lift a finger to love and give.

I go back to sleep

In the paradise I saw,

. And I sit next to a sheep

- Where there is no such thing as a flaw.

Again I see my friends

The mouse, the lion; they all are so dear.
. Where life has no ends

And we live without fear.

5 by Liana C. Di Marco ck aban
i c previously published 1985 Geronimo

 

 

 

 

, INFATUATION

In your turning radiant hair
I see your beauty browning fair

| ; : Lips so sweet, so sensually soft Que Color?

Piercing forth, your eye do please

“Su piel era negra, pero con el alma purisima
Passively, I burn to dare como la nieve blanca..."

4 Se een ate -EVUTCHENKO(sigun el cable),
; ey eae sae ante el asesinato de Lutero King.
I feel this pain urgently

‘ey oki Que alma tan blanca, dicen, la de aquel noble Pastor.
i. I long to touch your silky skin

Su piel tan negra, dicen,
Accept, I do this mortal sin Su piel tan negra de color.
ia May I love you in a dream Era por dentro nieve,
. Would you caress this crying being Azucena,
i. Leche fresca,
Whisps, your hair is softly soft Algodon.
r Shining fire in the summer sun Que candor

if Blowing into my dreaming face

: No habia ni una mancha
Bringing me more passionate pain

En su blanquisimo interior.

(En fin, valiente hallazgo:

EI negro que tenia el mas blanca
Aquel novelon)

Pero podria decirse otro modo;
Que almatan poderosa negra

La dulcisimo pastor

Que alta pasion negra

Ardia en su ancho corazon

Que pienso mientos puros negros
Su gravido cerebro alimento

Que negro amor,

Tan repartido

Sin color.

? Porque no iba a tener el alma negra
Aquel heroico pastor?

Negro como el carbon.

 

by Phinder Dulai

 

 

 

 

by Nicolas Guillen