Thick snow and dense frost impede my homeward sight
In the twilight, as if in sorrow, I see a thousand trees hang down their heads.
Real criminals are those opposed to anti-imperialism fight,
From Caribbean to pacific, exiled spirits still mourn for the dead.
There are many consistent heroes and heroines struggling since days of past:
Freedom from state violence is a must!
In a dream, I’m in a home-bound vessel,
Since the colonial days, how many martyrs have faded without trace?
‘Change, like death, is inevitable’;
at the shore, I’m come to pay the price.
Those who lead the country without the mandate of the people are our foes,
Let the proletariat up- rise with hidden daggers, guns and bent bows.