A Song to the Goddess of Ngari

Tonite the goddess of ngari pay a visit to me
as i have been deprived of her.
i thought it was my love with her long black hair in winter air
with the fragrance of her pillow we shared

so i sing to her;

O Ngari!
i write to you these words like a drunken mate
i will die if you leave me in this strange city
O ngari
I will fight for you with everyone in the world
I won't let any poet rhyme you with saree

O ngari
I can smell you miles away
"Miles to go before i eat"
O ngari
you work fine at places
where this country is the origin of maximum poetry.
O ngari
they say your smell is like that of dead ones in morgue
is it true? tell me it is not
Or is that why my fellow poets talk only of death?
O ngari
despite of our daily meeting at day and night
i never wrote you a song
don't abandon me
My love, she get pissed
as i keep on talking about you
when nights crawl into my stomach

My mother is arranging you for me
and you will come to me by morning Indigo flight
hope this human technology don't scare you
they scare me too more than bullet does

O ngari
come! be my beloved to night
the season's first bunch of yongchak has arrived
but without you they are all waste
this country has fed me
injustice and racial discrimination.
Now let me eat what i want

O ngari
O goddess of Ngari come to me
i am very hungry

come to me with no wings
the birds with their wings they bring nothing to me
freedom is theirs in the sky
above the ground it is my land crying
and the sky rains tear

O ngari
Looking back at my origin
I found you in Ootong
Now i dont know where do you belong
I just know your taste and the feelings of home
and the comfort you gave to my silly stomach

I was about to ask you
who are all these fake patriots
and lovers of this shithole
now i doubt you are one of them.
why are you acting so pricey
is that the traders?
or is that the highway blockades?
you know
we have nothing left in this valley
our culture has been sold out in big stages
our ideologies has been leaked away through the barrels   
our folk tales are not evolving anymore

tell me you are not one of them
tell me you bloom out of an ootong
from the bamboo groove in my backyard
don't lie to me
it is not a poetry
it is about all those years we have shared,
and the year you have shared with our forefathers.
Or are there any imprint left on you for the history you have witnessed
or you are like human who dies for no reason who left nothing on earth
except stories of genocide to make their descendant even worse

O Goddess of Ngari
I am singing you a song of our roots
not a song of a delicious cunt

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