Good-bye, My home land. Oh Kampuchea, how I dream of you! My heart is broken And yours, too. The loved ones of your people Died in their native soil, Unmarked and unsure. The mind couldn’t copy, and thought remains, So I feel I can’t go home again. Through mountains and forests Of my country I fled Until I found a roof and a bed From where I’ll soon depart With someone who truly has stolen my heart. The path I chose was tragic and rough, But my survival proves courage is enough To carry me through to a world so new, In which the future is without a clue. The past has gone and the future is So I must try to forget what happened and how. I know in whom I’ll confide. The future is bright And the past is the past. Our culture will be carried to many other lands, Far from Angkor Watt and Phnom Penh, But I will record it with paper and pen And our customs will surely survive As long as one single Khmer is alive. (vichetrattanak@yahoo) Richard. **********
Posted on: Sun, 09 Nov 2014 01:55:00 +0000
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