Open-eyed,
you leave
your ivory-armed
existence
and take up
the red arms
of the revolution
Free,
like a rushing stream,
you make
womanhood
and
sacrifice
your vocation,
flowing forever
through the struggling masses
with the synchronicity
of trees and time.
Seduced by the call
of comfort and class,
Your thunder crashes
their distant echoes
in the mountains
of youth and age,
while the flag burns
scarlet,
rippling waves
of a storming war
in your heart.
