A Collection of Poems

Not a star is poor As long as it is seen Not a nation being needy As long as it has a song, a speech.

I set some water to boil didn’t have anything to put in it I was all alone in the house the water slowly evaporating

an old man paralysed on one side of his body is carrying a bucket to the bin

the road stretches ahead like a piece of paper burnt at one end

I am the apple tree that rises With shiny fruit toward the stars, While down below a leper scratches Against its trunk his ugly scars.

Everybody giggles In the same old language, Everybody whimpers In the same old tongue.