slave - Popular Poems and stories from category

Come back to me, mother
why linger
From thy poor little blind boy, the long weary day
I mark every footstep,

I pity the slave mother, careworn and weary,
Who sighs as she presses her babe to her breast;
I lament her sad fate, all so hopeless and dreary,
I lament for her woes, and her wrongs unredressed

Еще мы говорим о славе, о искусстве
И ждем то лета, то зимы

Сердцебиению бессмысленных предчувствий

loaded like spoons
into the belly of Jesus
where we lay for weeks for months
in the sweat and stink