| Kasama, sister of song and storm,
The slender fingers of rain in your music
And faces lost to thought between heaven and earth:
You remind us of the scattered bodies
Of the mist of the gray mourning
Early this another day of life and death,
Hands of rain beating on earth of darkness
While we rest on the white hope of the sky.
Before us the far-off images rise,
Villages of remoteness, or cities of origin,
Distant comforts of home and habit,
But for the camaraderie and the call to arms
And the cry of people's war one day of punitive battle
After the bareheaded solemnity at Sag-od
Deeply-felt for Red fighters the silence over fascist mass murder.
Ay, kasama, sister of song and storm,
The stirring strings of your music mingle
With the rain filling the streams to the larger rivers
In ourselves. And through our hearts that know
The powerful stories of life and death,
The running saga, the people's war, continues.
|
