Wasteland: A Tribute to Aung San Suu Kyi on Her 62nd birthday in 2007

Wasteland: A Tribute to Aung San Suu Kyi on Her 62nd birthday in 2007

Wasteland
Phone soe


A sculpted miniature of Burma’s map
Sits on the southern edge of Inya Lake
Locked and enclosed.
A symbol of justice
Defying the confinement
The compound at No.54 remains alive.
A weathered house of white color
Stands alone in dignity
Remains of grandeur
Cold rusty barbed wires
And the flags
Pale yet unyielding
The decaying leaves and trash
Never swept away.
And the two iron doors
Stranger to function of opening
Behind all these lies
A Woman
Epicenter of all the entire courage
Epicenter of 50 million people’s future
Epicenter of all the worries of the world
With the mighty calmness, she exists
Waves of the calmness
Vibrate the neighborhood
Once near this place,
Moving cars slow down their engines
Voices in the cars come to a silence
The heads that turn to the No.54
Become top-heavy.
Heavy minds for those
Who can only mentally vision the scene
Even strong winds coming across the Inya
Get softened at the touch of No.54.
This woman of Birth
Born in the year when the world
Saw the collapse of fascism
Her ideas bright as diamonds
Appealed to even men on the streets
Her simple words of wisdom
Brought the farmers wielding knives
To throw their fists into the sky
Thus helping them overcome the fear
Her sarcastic words infused with humor
Like the tip of a steel needle
Poke at the searing wounds of the oppressors
The woman born in the year
When fascist were driven out of Burma
Her father, Thakin Aung San
Most astute of Burma’s heroes
Youngest national leader of the world
Founder of Burma’s modern army
Fallen down as a martyr
While building the Fourth Burma
Then, she was two years old.
This woman of Birth
Through the wounds in her heart,
Saw her father’s kindly heart
With the help of her mother’s love.
This woman of Birth
Through the hearts of the Burmese people
Learned to appreciate virtues of her father
Through the pages of history books
Knew her father’s Dhamma and integrity
Understood her father’s vision
By following in his footsteps
This woman of Birth
The silver moon in the dark night
For our land
At the sight of her light
People revolt like rising tide waves
Their frenzy feelings ripple in vehemence.
They start to defy the darkness,
Shrouded in the courage that spreads
Hungry lives shed their misery
All, young and old, stopped their cries,
With the hope of a brighter future.
When she, silver moon, gets obscured by the dark,
And the Devil reigns supreme again,
The lowly men and the ghosts go rowdy,
Shockingly like in a graveyard.
For thousands of years
Our people ever ignorant of state affairs.
On this cursed soil,
Honorable men died in grisly scenes
From Kaungbaung masscares
To the Depayin murders,
Leaving many lives broken
In both life and death.
Caught up in this whirlpool of Burma’s politics,
Our Lady of Birth
Separated eternally from both her father and husband
Though still far away
From her children and her grandchildren,
She is dear to,
Yet, she never breathed a word about her own life.
Ever devoted to our land
With such a love,
Greater than that of the best mother.
Brutish men blindly hate
Both imperialism and racism in confusion
For all their personal attacks against her,
Our good woman
Always responded with a smile.
She, after all, married not the imperialism.
But the Englishman.
Michael Aris who fell in love
With this heroine of Asian beauty,
He tied down his heart.
For our land to be free,
In a self-sacrifice,
He chose to live in dark loneliness
For our land to see the light
He got separated with his dear wife.
Oh in this land,
For the fascist dinner,
The left-over of sham socialism
Warmed up with repulsive nationalism.
Though it appealed to some,
It was the people who got poisoned.
Though it delighted some,
It was the people who got nauseated.
Our motherland
Mature with a democracy pregnancy,
Like the mother who cannot do childbirth
At the right time.
Pain must be deep inside her heart.
Since no mother fail to lover their babies
No matter whatever labor pains.
She would love her baby anyway
Even if you had been hungry and destitute,
We wish she’d give birth to a healthy child
A well-formed child of democracy
Our Lady of Birth is the key
To close our old Pandora’s Box
She is also the key
To open our future garden
At present, however,
She remains as the key that is locked up.
To bring peace to the miniature of Burma
To bring peace to the compound No.54
Isolated for years from the outside world
We would strive very hard.
Aspiring to the days
When waves of Inya Lake start to bounce over
When all the flowers bloom
When the birds sing
When our wild politics turn
Into a new beautiful garden
When our good woman
Cares for her own sons
And carries her own grandson
Like the moon in a clear sky
There, the dark is broken
Then, that’s our motherland.
In this compound No.54
When the woman of Birth
Leads the celebrations in 2015
Of the centenary of Thakin Aung San
In a safe atmosphere,
Then, the soldiers begin to chant
The name of their beloved father, Gen. Aung San,
Holding up his pictures.
Bearing no space for animosity,
The compound No.54
Would see our liberation at its highest
And our human rights thrive in abundance.
This is no fantasy dream.
It’s our real task!

Leave a Reply