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Poem

Two towns not different 
from each other and yet
they have become indelible
and their preciousness inestimable,
they are two thoughts of equal devotion;
on one I spent lively and spontaneous days
of my brief youth that was given to passion:
going to school, playing soccer in a distant field,
On the other, I rolled up my sleeves and worked hard.

Two towns with friendly people showing a frown
when faced with many hardships 
and a few questionable rewards;
and that incited me to be a fervent dreamer,
someone who allowed imagination and dreams
create something beyond belief that shocked my peers.
I could have been a notorious painter,
or even an applauded composer,
but those aspirations vanished as fog at the arrival of dawn...
boarding an airplane, taking me far from my birthplace
while the Vietnam war raged on
and hippies sang songs of rebellion and peace,
and with drums and guitars, they rambled on
being deluded that freedom was won without arms and courage
by smoking weed and getting drunk: that didn't change their tune.

Two towns not different from each other 
have remained engraved into a youngster's memory
and they can't be taken apart, or single out by animosity
having been stumbling blocks but also inspiring as well;
did I wish to leave my motherland and not tell
how tragic and how appalling was my farewell...
uncertain of a future not so brighter in color?

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