Автор: Робин Лим (Robin Lim)
Перевод и исполнение: Анна Гераскина
Музыка и исполнение: Герман Дмитриев

As a refugee
You have no genealogy left.
You will give your daughter and shelter you can
And sing to her half-remembered songs
In your mother’s voice.
What kind of man, wanted on Timor,
Dials a wrong number and finds a lonely girl
On the line?
What kind of man marries her in secret,
Lays his head on the moon of her belly rising,
And steals a name of their baby?
Man, black as the Indonesian new moon sky,
You hate your boss and his money
But love yourself for working.
You can smile in seven languages
And cry in only one.
Woman heaved and crawled in circles
To bring the child Earth side
In a circle of pain and the midwife’s desperate prayer:
“We are only small people here. God,
Send your mother to help us before death comes
To the screaming, breaking gate of amnion”.
How will you treat this woman in five years time?
In seven?
Thirteen?
Her lips grown thin and her hands rough.
The soul is a single celled creature
with huge eyes.
Now go to the pay phone young man
And dial home.