October 12, 1998
The whisper stream ran through the town for days.
The backwoods insecurities had laid him six feet below
where the snow now covers the roses.
They were afraid of where his eyes might find their fix as well as their own.
They thought that they knew him but they didn't even know themselves.
The whisper stream flowed across this country.
The headlines printed the words of self defense.
Did he deserve to die?
Do they deserve to live?
I'll trade their life for his.
12 de Outubro de 1998
O rio sussurrante correu pela cidade por dias.
As inseguranças do mato o enterraram a seis pés de profundidade
onde a neve agora cobre as rosas.
Eles tinham medo de onde seus olhos poderiam se fixar, assim como os deles.
Achavam que o conheciam, mas nem mesmo se conheciam.
O rio sussurrante fluiu por este país.
As manchetes imprimiram as palavras de autodefesa.
Ele merecia morrer?
Eles merecem viver?
Eu trocaria a vida deles pela dele.