Mt. Bulusan, white clouds sit on your head and your sagging shoulders.   are you a virgin to wear a white veil over your verdant hair?   you have long been granted to foreign conquerors. even your image is being traded by greedy businessmen. the sacred lake at your foot is witness to the shrewd's violation of the beauty of your daughters.   you have been stripped of beauty and wealth, your trees have been felled by the thieves, your pet birds and beasts reserved for the oppressed have been driven away by the plunder of the minions of martial rule.   are you really a virgin to wear a white veil? ah, you're covering the smoke from your Red army's stove!   Mt. Bulusan, not the smallest mass of clouds sit on your head and lap.   does your bright face signal freedom and victory or betrayal of the sons and daughters of the people?   do you not see far in the skies the helicopter boastfully swirling? at your foot, do you not hear the proud footfalls of your evil guests? why do you not hide beneath your clouds?   ah, you have unfolded your arms welcoming the light of the sun in the east to give hope to bewildered revolutionaries. (E.P.)