Whispered the fresh wind at the end of this summer afternoon,
And the clear sky is already showing the moon in all its exuberance,
Yet in my chest an emptiness and a commotion,
What is it that troubles me so much?
The world and its greed.

I saw on the news a hungry child on the other side world.
I received from one of my neighbors a basket with plums from his orchard where there are so many falling on the background.
Oh, it would be so good to give some plums for those children from the news.
In my world abundance,
In their world shortages.

When I was a kid I use to sleep terrified by the noise of thunders and lightening.
My God, how these children can sleep with the sounds of bombs and gunmen?
There are plums across the world, but war does not allow them to plant or crop.
Nevertheless the war owners eat plums which they brought from other countries,
They don’t worry if others have nothing to eat.

Life could be more enjoyable with neighbors exchanging fruit, cakes and bread!
No greed, no violence, no religion.
Where there is fear, there cannot be freedom
And without freedom, happiness is overcome by the anguish of heart.
I am a soul distressed by the anguish of my brothers.

They taught the boy to kill,
Rather than teach him to climb the plum tree.
A plum tastes so good!
But death tastes so badly.
– Let this gun down little boy cone up here in this branch, collects those plums from the higher places they are the sweeter.

While there are no plums for all,
There will be no peace.
While the boys do not learn to climb trees,
They do not know the sweetness of life,
Nor will I find end to my uneasiness.

by Luis A R Branco

3 pensamentos sobre “Plums 

  1. Para que público o autor desse texto( em inglês) está escrevendo ? O blog tem título e subtítulo em português. O mínimo da decência seria apresentar ao público ledor lusófono, que não tem a obrigação de ter um conhecimento profundo da língua de Byron, uma versão em língua portuguesa.

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