GREAT SOUL IN MY COUNTRY 2 © 2008
Today should not be a day for writing, but what to do with this misfortune,
That does not free the mind from its cursed will?
Thus they gather, in ordered rows,
Words, like soldiers on their journeys.
Some already generals, supreme in their sighs,
Others, courtesans, timid in fleeting confessions,
Afraid to expose their hidden feelings,
They fear the inquisition, which silently judges insults.
Displease your originality, the humility of moments,
That arise from the chest, in gentle torment,
But writing insists, even without permission,
And thus, the words march, in silent revolution.