In my country there is a mountain. In my country there is a river. Come with me. Night rises up the mountain. The faint longing down in the river. Come with me. Who are those who suffer? I do not know, but they are mine. Come with me. I do not know, but they call me and they say to me: “We suffer.” Come with me. And they say to me: “Your people, your unlucky people, between the mountain and the river, with hunger and with pains, they do not want to fight alone, waiting for you, friend.” Oh you, whom I love, small, red grain of wheat, the struggle will be hard, life will be hard, but you will come with me. Pablo neruda
Posted on: Mon, 26 Jan 2015 16:12:42 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015