I am the foreigner
and it can be seen
I do not speak
quite like you
I come from the flowerbed
where the eggplants
become purple at dawn
They are like me
all terrified
we were
transplanted without our roots
from our stems
they are weak;
all these fruits
touch the soil
I am the foreigner
like the water of your river
and like the step
that your daughter dances
They call me brown
because of my hands
which are always black
I think it's beautiful
But me, I call myself Bruno
just like my father
following a blind wave
who brings back from my ancestors
the hidden meaning behind my name
all afraid
we were
transplanted without our routes
from our stems,
all weak,
all these fruits
touch the soil