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Why do girls follow the destinies of their mothers? Why are their bodies deserts, their eyes the ocean deep? Why do women keep their jewels locked in trunks To...
Hands, picking cotton - how I love those hands A perfect metaphor for the love of the land. They had battled with stormy seas, all night long, When, defeated, ...
This city does not desire a revolution any more The mirror we found, but we haven't the stone any more At such a time have my comrades found their crosses! Tho...
Hidden inside me lives this - delicate girl Strange aspects, strange passions she has, this girl. I an tell you why my hands bleed so Bare hands chiselled her ...
Come the rains this year, in every flower bed fireflies shall be planned The tears of the widows of peasants shall be planted. How long will the havelis of the...