When the hips are not fixed,
Swing hither and thither as unscrewed,
Hands are slender and very flexible,
Eyes are drowsy, move sideways,
O the neck lost its authority,
Brothers, What posture is it?
Your kind of brothers are growing,
On every soil of the world,
Soils of black, white, brown and colored,
When men were the hunters, they hunted the animals,
When men were the soldiers, they killed their enemies,
When men were the prophets, they preached the women,
When men are the loners, they mutilate their own gender.
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