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18 November 2010, 16:49, by Haitian anonymous poet
They are the cholera of the world
The night is purple in my heart
The black trunks of the sunset
It’s raining in my soul
Dead branches dripping
On the red earth
Time is tender and sad
My body lies on the ground
Thrown by soldiers
Of International forces
Come from every where
To pull us from life
To kill us
No burial
No mercy
No regrets
Do not forget my friend
My Comrade
Proletarian of the world
More importantly, do not forget
That these soldiers are there too
To prepare for your death
As they held mine
No hate, no regrets
But remember everything
Do not be sorry for the killing of this unjust order
Which oppresses and kills ....
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They are the cholera of the world
The night is purple in my heart
The black trunks of the sunset
It’s raining in my soul
Dead branches dripping
On the red earth
Time is tender and sad
My body lies on the ground
Thrown by soldiers
Of International forces
Come from every where
To pull us from life
To kill us
No burial
No mercy
No regrets
Do not forget my friend
My Comrade
Proletarian of the world
More importantly, do not forget
That these soldiers are there too
To prepare for your death
As they held mine
No hate, no regrets
But remember everything
Do not be sorry for the killing of this unjust order
Which oppresses and kills ....