If I Were a Poet

The day is always welcome,
but remember, you are a lost person,
and you are hopeless.
Click here! It’s forbidden!
Cuba should have a variety.
Nothing should heat the grass,
not even the first time.
You are here, but try—
You do not live outdoors.
Your mother is the soccer manager.
There are many years of void—
Many sad years,
And there is nothing to eat,
But never give up—
You can still find your home.