Our Late Dear Departed
Copyright Maru (Kyaw Aung Lwin)
Translation Copyright Kyi May Kaung
Our late dear departed
You won’t be on time.
As for us we aren’t quite sure
The train has not yet – arrived.
There are many fallen – on our side.
Before – the enemies have become friends, the friends
Have become enemies.
In that kind of – rather messed up
Raggedy rundown country, with its rather
Wobbly, lopsided history
We are backward in everything
Backward behind
In monsoon winds
Backward behind in
The sun rising, and the tide
Turning
Backward behind, in education
In rock music, tin beer cans
Tissue paper and lavatories that keep
The flies, firmly, out.
From these things to something called
Democracy. We are
behind in everything
Most clearly and effectively, behind.
In that place we had to trade, for something called
Human rights
with our lives.
Before our young men have become
Buddhist novices
They have gone, early into prison.
Before they’ve even gotten
A little diploma
They’ve been sentenced
A heavy jail term.
Before they’ve even gotten themselves
A little sweetheart, they’ve become
Long-term prison residents.
It’s that kind of country, with that kind of hatchet marks
and
Stab wounds on it.
That kind of struck dumb nation
Notched crooked nation.
The kind of nation where, even without
Anything to eat, you have to meet
Your financial obligation.
That kind of nation where even though
Married, children have to be carefully
Prevented, with permanent
Contraception.
That kind of country where, if it
Becomes unbearable, and you want
To vomit in disgust, you’d better plan
A silent noiseless
Eruption/explosion.
That kind of country where lives
Slowly become small
And insignificant.
Where husband and wife
Start to fight more and more.
Where you soon lose
Self-confidence.
Where you begin to suffer from
Malnutrition, where
evil deeds multiply, where
the bad stars cast their light, growing
cruel and oppressive, where
rather than live one would
rather die.
A great nation like that where
The seeds of our dreams never reach
Fruition.
A great nation where many fall and die
Where the standard of living is low
The death rates high.
A great nation that can’t hold up
Its head, among others.
A great nation that is, below par.
A great nation that isn’t, truly human.
Where it isn’t worth it, to be
A human being.
A nation without a parliament, our great
Royal nation, of course.
But there are people who would
Like to see that country
Of all countries shining gold
Would like the country to be
accepted among all others.
Our martyrs, our late
dear departed have died
for their beliefs, been
crushed, their blood fallen
on black earth.
Those of us remaining, can only
Quite often, pray
And pay our respects, to the fallen, as to
The Buddha in this
Country of ours where
Morning has
Not yet
Dawned.
That’s all!
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