A TALE OF MY TRIBE
We reached this tall forest
that never moves at all.
The squirrels are of giant height.
With violet unblinking eyes
they observe us from the forest.
It rains steadily.
Here we cannot think.
The trees dissuaded all our feats.
For two days already
we’ve been standing tied in a knot:
baaa-baaa-baaa…
In this rain even our foes have forgotten us.
We do not know why we are here.
Maybe the myth of death is true.
Maybe we cease indeed.
We're still standing at the edge of the forest.
It does not move, neither do we.
Perhaps it does not look too good,
but if doubted,
we would do this all over again.
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