From here to the red rays of the sun,
I clench my fist – like thunder drawing
itself to your bosom;
to picture my unselfish memory
of you making love with the masses.

From here to the line of fire,
I raise my arms – like clouds holding
the rains beneath your eyes;
to free the class of the deprived.

From here to the roses of battles,
I open myself – like bullets fired
across the fields against the enemies;
to win your heart and the people’s.

(April 2001)