Wherever I hang...

Este poema de Grace Nichols me gusta mucho... está muy padre... y no sé, siento que en cualquier momento terminaré diciendo algo así, viviéndolo...

I leave me people, me land, me home
For reasons, I not too sure
I forsake de sun
And de humming-bird splendour
Had big rats in de floorboard
So I pick up me new-world-self
And come, to this place call England
At first I feeling like I in dream-
De misty greyness
I touching de walls to see if they real
They solid to de seam
And de people pouring from de underground system
Like beans
And when I look up to de sky
I see Lord Nelson high- too high to lie

And is so I sending home photos of myself
Among de pigeons and de snow
And is so I warding off de cold
And is so, little by little
I begin to change my calypso ways
Never visiting nobody
Before giving them clear warning
And wainting me turn in queue
Now, after all this time
I get acostum to de English life
But I still miss back-home side
To tell you the truth
I don´t know really where I belaang

Yes, divided to de ocean
Divided to de bone


Wherever I hang me knickers-that´s my home.