Oh What a Poet
Road is not Lost
Poem of 8-8-88: Open the Door
A coffee
A cigarette
A dreamy poet
And a fantasy
Swept up in the tidal waves and the whirlwinds of the 1988 uprising
Woken from a sleepy state by the rousing rendition
Of the battle cries fueled by the hunger for freedom
Followed a poet with a blood spattered pen
To record the tidings of war
An enormous struggle for the unarmed innocents
Who have fallen by the wayside
Captured by the thousands
Disappeared and slaughtered in countless numbers
For daring to hope for justice and freedom
Unthinkable sacrifices made on such a profound scale
Soon the summer Cuckoo will be crowing with the falling leaves
And our journey still unending
The wounded poet and his blood soaked pen
Unable to fly with the wild wind of a summer evening
Or yearning for the reflections of the past on the surface of the Inya Lake
A poet with a pen
Looking forward to the trumpet sound of victory with his brother comrades
Standing by and once more sharpening his pen
A coffee
A cigarette
But no longer a dream or a fantasy!
TIN MOE 28 Jan 1999.
Tranlsated by May Ng New York. December 2004
if the sun does not shine
the white, pure moon
still radiates
if the moon does not wax
the stars in abundance
shed their light
if the moon does not shine
and the twinkles of the stars are faint
the lamp will be prepared
at the entrance to the house
there will still be light
TIN MOE 13 August 1963
tranlated by Myint Zan 5 June 2004
A huge mass of people is on the move
Come to demand: “Open the door”
Flags aloft, they follow their leader
With one voice they shout their rallying cry
Their wishes written on banners held high
Elated spirits,
Chests bearing proud badges
Red headscarves, red neck scarves
Red scarves tied around their wrists,
Our history has never seen the like,
Head erect, and our hands clasped together
Comrades all,
We march peacefully to the pagoda,
To the monasteries
Our faces wreathed in smiles,
Our hearts serene.
Amongst us, the people of Burma,
There is no hate
We wonder amazement
At the change in ourselves
As we shout to the sky with one roar of thunder,
Setting light even to the verdant forest.
We have shaken ourselves free of our midnight
Open the door, open the door!
The demand of the entire nation.
