A Youth's Voice
Melchor F. Cichon
1986
My four tears fall
While sawing the chain on my conscience.
Then an unknown bullet pierces my brain.
Now the master that instigated
The finger to pull the trigger
Must be smiling.
But he will bridge
The hills and the heavens.
I do not mind having a thousand falls
As long as my brothers can plow their lots
From early morning
Till the dew starts
To form its desired shape.
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