Poetry
By:
Dionisio de Jesus Lopes
Behold a grain seed as our state,
Seemingly it’s made for joy and woe.
But our armed game-cocks to fight,
Should convoke strengths for the same fight.
The Red had misused his strength,
The ruin of the state was predicted.
The lion and dogs starved at his gate,
They rose indecently to remove this Red.
The Blue spoke without fright.
He heard them and listened with his heart.
The least were understood with their cry,
The Blue acted to make a try.
The White also rightly knew,
To make a country anew.
He traveled to every corner of the state,
He became therapy for those who grieved.
Let us use this triangle…
Which side measures high?
Do we want a better smile?
Then start dreaming high…
