(True Lover Of Humanity)
Paid off
Foreigners, please do not treat me
as the footprint of a rootless man.
please do not take the words
out of my mother-loving mouth.
In my hand, obiter dictum,
Jean-Paul Sartre utters 'The words' of life,
thus he speaks : 'If I relegate
impossible salvation to the proproom
what remains?
A whole man, composed of all men
and as good as all of them,
and no better than any
Foreigners, I have also a skull like you
and inside it boil the words of life,
and the eyes of mine
often plough the ample breasts of Venus.
Then
respond to my query:
how long we shall remain to be foreigners
when there is one world
writing the annals of mankind
Under the same boundless sky?
Written
on 1972
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