White shirt and red tie，
blue sky with dying sun
husband and wife，
Is it not？
When there are Sahara stomachs，
with its serpents hissing thunder，
waiting for our sprinkling of water.
where there are trees without barks，
chameleons of torn garments，
but，we change garment like the sky，
wet only the trees in the valley.
When there are birds without nests，
beaten here and there by heaven’s tears.
we buy yacht where some
enjoy the nightingale songs of mosquitos
every night under the open sky they sleep.
Oh！ I wonder like the roaming clouds,
at the heads that suffers lack
as many like grains of sand.
Oh！I wonder why some eat to spoil
and will never toss a coin at a street beggar.
I wonder why that withered skin
carries sticks around without a single hand
Oh！ I wonder how pence,
map the world with fence.
A closed hand hinders outflow and in flow.
A stingy hand is a stagnant lagoon.
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