You Can Crush The Flowers, But You

Am I Allowed To Ask My Book / Whether It's True I Wrote It?

Absence Is A House So Vast That Inside You Will Pass Through Its Walls And Hang Pictures On The Air.

Who Do I Belong To? How Come I Mortgaged My Being Till I Don't Belong To Myself? How Come I Sold My Blood? And Who Now Owns My Indecisions, My Hands, My Private Pain, My Pride?

What Does Autumn Go On Paying For With So Much Yellow Money?

My Duty Moves Along With My Song: I Am I Am Not: That Is My Destiny. I Exist Not If I Do Not Attend To The Pain Of Those Who Suffer: They Are My Pains. For I Cannot Be Without Existing For All, For All Who Are Silent And Oppressed, I Come From The People And I Sing For Them: My Poetry Is Song And Punnishment.