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■ Pașadine în vers alb (73)
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2008-02-22 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
There's a rope around my neck,
that holds me tight, that keeps me bound to a wooden pillar. There are angry eyes watching me, as I twist and struggle to break free from this circus scene. I'm an artifact with life, obeying to another culture but mine. I was taken away from my land, put into ships and left on the sea shore, to be bought and to carry out tasks. The songs back home run wild in my mind... a cotton field was my playground... the path to my ancestors is almost lost... erased from all maps... THEY say WE are equal, but they forget to say: equal to a human being. Independece of body, doesn't always bring the independence of soul.
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