***
The Motherland has overturned,
her ass up, on all fours how she could do
without the great Poet and without his
splendid and perfect poems, by giving
him extreme poverty and starvation
and thirst, the motherland that gave him
as a female escort the slavery, the slander,
the blasphemy and the contempt, the black
cannibals barked at him one by one, the jealous
thrust a dagger deep into his back waiting
for him on the dark corners his sepulchre
are his true poems that won’t perish
even after this sky but his epitaph a blood-red
flagellar star. The weeping grew like a torrent
of light in the Milky Way towards which
the Motherland stays with her naked ass up.
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