On a plateau, with little volcanic mountains,
a muddy river, dangerous when the snow melts,
a fertile valley, cattle breeders, and a music academy,
a tall, handsome, agile people, with straight black hair
and an enterprising spirit, lived peaceably. Though
there had never been hatred between the races,
after a quarrel over local matters, massacres came.
Men, women, and children robbed and deported—
an evacuation, they called it. Heads impaled on branches.
Mounds of corpses, like grim flowers knotted together.
A passing ship transported a few to a distant port,
where Mother was born, though now she, too,
has vanished into the universe, and the cold browns
the weeping cherry, vivid red mixed with blue.