Zywa
Land of my dreams
I feel Grandpa's soul in me
shrinking of desire
for land, not fields
but my own pastures
No longer being expelled
by the farmer's sons
with their dogs, mice
and bugs in the beds
for their sick and their sore backs
from plowing and planting
weeding, harvesting and grinding the grain
I have gone further
than my father, with my herd
on the way to uninhabited pastures
but I did not find them, nowhere
was the land of my dreams
Only the desert is free
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