THE BIRTH OF THE SUN
Nian-ko-sha, a new word
from the Toto-folktales
I’ve picked up.
I stand under its cool shade
and recount the tale
of encounter between
Sainjini, the goddes
and Pidua, the demon.

Sainjini wins in the battle or oranges.

I hope that all the farmer-women
once would be strong enough
to ward off sezy hands
robbing Lokai and Behula
of their crops, dreaming songs.

Yellow egg-yolk turns
to be the sun in the story,
the source of light and life.

I dream all eggs hatched
to be the suns
among the displaced farmers…
IN THE EARLY MORNING

In the early morning
I wake up from sleep
when the dark still crawls near
the misty horizon.
I sharpen my big sword,
strong and bright.

Now I go deep into the forest
where the horizon still palled
with darkness.

Nothing seems
to be distinct to my eyes.
Horizon still dark
trots of wild stag
stir me up.
A stag is killed
with my sharp sword.

Now I'm back to my place
with my hunt.
O my comrades, in the village
why still sleeping?

Strike fire in front of our Ni-an-kosha,
the sun now high up the hill.

based on a Toto Folk-song recreated by rudra kinshuk