Irrawaddy Flowing on the Road

I won’t cry, Mother.
On the nights
I closed all the doors
Turned off all the lights
And slept quietly
I sighed asking myself
What mistakes had I made.

The first day
Next to the road enveloped
By the echos of love
Covered by the monks
I put my hands together with tears
My legs still pulled back
By fear, Mother.

The second day
With bare feet in the wind and rain
Where love overflowed
The youth and people
Surrounding the golden-colored stream
A new Irrawaddy
Flowed on the road.
That day, I became the Irrawaddy, Mother.

The next day was very simple, Mother.
Against your worries
Ignoring the aches and pains
For sure I became
A brick and a grain of sand
For the brave monks, Mother.

Being a Buddhist
From a country where Buddhism flourishes
You, I’m sure, will be happy
For the actions I took, Mother.

I won’t try to spell out to you
Things about some people
Who are not worth thinking about.
The worst among the craziest people
Is the one crazy for power.
His lips have the power to give orders.
Under him are
For whom hell is too good.
In their hands are weapons to kill.
How can I hand over
This country’s future to them, Mother?

Spirits of some of the dead monks
Covered with wounds they took from beating
Came to talk to me, Mother.
(May all the living things in the east
Be free from all kinds of danger, be free from anger
Be free from all kinds of poverty, and be in peace.)

With love light
We lit up peace.
Yes, mother.
Everything was peaceful
Before the noises from
Shields hit by the batons
Tear gas explosions
Gun shots
Loud swear words
Then …. the sounds of yelling and beating.
The entire country was complete with love and peace
Love of the monks, Mother.

The spirit of a student
Who had to give permission
For a bullet from the heretics
To enter his heart
Came to talk to me, Mother.
(I paid obeisance to the monks.
I donated everything the monks needed.
Along with the monks, I spread my love
To all living things.
I didn’t do anything wrong.
With the purest mind
I just did the most appropriate thing.)

Yes, Mother.
I’m not walking on the road
Built by the students, the youth, the people, and the monks
For fun.
We went onto the road because
We understood our race and our religion
We understood what was right and wrong
We knew we should stand by the truth.
Also, to lessen inappropriate things that keep happening
We came out onto the road
With little strength we had
With little hope uncertain.

The white chest of the youths
Far away from fault
They had the heart to shoot and covered in red blood, Mother.

In that revolution
Even the platforms of the pagodas
Turned into battlefields, Mother.
The heretics enjoyed drinking
The blood of the monks
The blood of the students.

They say that to change something
We need to sacrifice our lives, Mother.
Please ask those with answers
How much more do we have to sacrifice
For peace, for justice, for truth, Mother.

Let’s forget about guns that are not to shoot into the air
Bamboo batons not for display, Mother.
One sure thing is
However much they kill
However many people die
The Irrawaddy on the road will
Forever be flowing in our hearts.