We Dandle The Culture
We dandle the culture to immortality
And frill it with all kinds of figures of speech
We let the rhythm be its cloak
And the plangent drums its heartbeat
We are cleave to revealing the truth,
Enshrine history, tell the tales
And smother ferosity
Behold the saint that feeds on treason
And that pally face coated in a smile of still tedium
Poetry has strewn to all directions
Strewn to unequal dimensions
Towards the east its modest
And modern towards the west
It is audible in the south
In the north the plea is sound
And we'll only rest when the star
Of eternal life leads us back home
That is our plea and God,
Please don't let us grow cold
poem by Stella Sisanda Qishi
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