Requiem

"You are obsessed with your differences,"
so says the foreigner,
who wants to write a book about us
when he goes to Europe.
And I said
"Go ahead, tell the truth"

You say, go home,
but this is my home.

Now that you are gone, White Sheep,
who will speak the truth?


Cowards!
Do not accuse me of hard work!
My only sin is sacrifice,
and all my years of anguish and fight.

There is no one to defend me,
I am a stranger in this house
the one in which I was born.

Listen you who are Blind!,
now the White Sheep is dead
you should be happy
for you drove her to her grave.