on the screen of my mind
dancing are the shadows
of former comrades
who had all departed long ago
but had left indelible imprints
of rebellious memories
on hills and cliffs
of unyielding struggle
against the exploitative
gluttonous ruling class
lyncean eyes
clenched fists of protest
heaving breasts of anger
and rebellion
feet violently kicking
the shrubby path
of liberating dreams
accusing forefingers
against the conscienceless
demigods of a rotten
worm-infested society.

dancing are the shadows
even on the curtain of my eyes
not the pandanggo or rigodon
of the rich and powerful
not the dance of joy
of plunderers of public funds
but performing they are
war dances of valiant struggle
like the buza of russia
or it-tahtib of egypt
or combat hopak of ukraine
or yarkhushta of armenia.
dancing are the shadows
and i will not soundly sleep
till i see the thousands
and thousands of flaming torches
in the darkness of my beloved land!