<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=494805" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Mountain Of Poverty</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">this is what i can tell you: <br>the children are running in the hills<br>looking for their favorite butterflies to play<br>chasing dreams, i suppose, who knows<br>what they really know and<br>feel, i was once a child myself, perhaps i have the right to guess<br>what simple wants they have, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">freedom, but i can tell you about something else, <br>their breakfast today is only brown sugar and rice, <br>and they have not taken their baths in the river because<br>the water is dirty, and there is no water system in the hills, <br>primitive, and still undeveloped, the grasses are not cut<br>tall and wild, and the coconut trees are not bearing much fruits, <br>there is drought, and the tenants do not have a good harvest<br>of their upland rice and there are rats infesting the rice fields, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">it rains so hard, the road is slippery and we all have to walk slowly<br>to keep themselves warm, the men drink wine and smoke <br>the women do not weave mats anymore, they're sold cheap<br>and they are so disappointed with what they are getting</div><div style="margin:10px 0">sugar is a precious commodity here, no coffee, <br>salt is expensive, salted fish is a luxury, <br>bread is like gold here and children do not know what is bread all about<br>cookies do not exist here</div><div style="margin:10px 0">stone age, this is stone age in the midst of an expanding world<br>the children here are left out<br>i stare at them as they throw stones at play, <br>dirt and foul smell, but on the other hand i look at the pictures<br>that i took on that day</div><div style="margin:10px 0">less the smell, less the dirt on their faces, <br>they are so beautiful, and the mountains are still hopeful.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=494805" data-title="The Mountain Of Poverty de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="this is what i can tell you: the children are running in the hills looking for their favorite butterflies to play chasing dreams, i suppose, who knows what they really know and feel, i was once a child myself, perhaps i have the right to guess wh..."></div> </div> </div>

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