It is contrary to your station
Get on the floor
Slave master is going to chord you
hit you up blood, put your head in a hole,
He will put metal in your bones.
I can suck in the sun,
It makes me hungry and the winds cool my foam.
I have muscles and they can move the earth,
But I got a mouth full of sand and dirt
How much money does it cost to buy life;
Who do I have to own to make myself proud;
When in the crowd I hear a sound,
People shouting to lay down,
"Put your hands out flat, do not make a stand."
So a rich man can put his foot on my back.
That rich man is going to blast you,
Chain you, put you down,
Call you a dog to use you;
Pet you if you purr to his smell.
I have muscles and fists that can swing,
Dig holes through sandblocks, put cracks in the street;
I have words like poison,
Pure passion and intent,
But the winds only listen
And my face is in the sand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem