A group of people get inside the bus,
Comes down from the bus.
They are about fifteen, with digging hoe, in hand.
The black people of village.
They are going to work, in row.
They are labour,
Mixed with soil, sweat and salt.
I can recognize their sweat and salt,
Sweat and salt of hard worker man.
I can hear their heart beat,
The heart beats of most ordinary man.
They made strong the axe of man,
With their blood.
They are man.
They enrich the moving history,
The evolutionary history of man.
They are man.
They are labour.
They are walking in row,
With digging hoe in hand.
I feel united with them.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- The Cold Heaven by William Butler Yeats
- Владимир Корнилов – Беатриче
- The Huntsmen by Walter de la Mare
- Eclogue VI by Virgil
- Низами Гянджеви – Когда ее ароматом неслышно ветер повеет
- The Gadfly poem – John Keats poems
- Cloudy Sky by Shel Silverstein
- In Praise of Laziness by William Wycherley
- Иван Коневской – В небывалое
- Live Baits by Satish Verma
- Autumn by Ramesh Anand
- Gratitudes Of A Dozen Roses
- Music poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- I Want, I Want by Sylvia Plath
- Валерий Брюсов – Где-то
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
