I am from no cable
video games or computers.
I’m from bikes with no training wheels
And toy cars with scratched-off paint.
I’m from school,
that started on September 1st for an entire country.
I’m from bows and arrows made of
wooden sticks, from
sledding on the road,
Caroling in a different language,
Christmases stretching longer,
than a day, the evergreen lit the whole city from its center.
I’m from a Christmas tree that lit up the center of a city.
From St. Nicholas pillow Decembers.

I am from hill climbing,
River playing,
Cattle herding,
egg gathering from a chicken’s nest,
And grain harvesting with my grandfather.
I’m from days at the aged clubhouse,
with the broken stairs and chipped paint.
I’m from selling fake candy to people- filling
wrappers with rocks.
From soccer games on dirt,
and goals made out of bricks.
I am from the strawberry fields,
behind garages with crumpling bricks.
I’m from villages with no electricity or
running water
and cities with no stoplights.
From a country with a new relationship with independence
and people who know one path to work.

I’m from notebooks half the size of spirals,
From which I’ve translated this poem.