Sa Se Rrom
(Soy una Gitana)

No lies,
no thieves,
no taking of marks;
and no caviar dreams. 

No Queens,
no Kings,
not a Duke or Duchess in sight;
just fathers and sons,
matriarchs who lead before first light.

You can threaten me,
I won’t run.
You can kill my people;
I won’t hide.
A Caldéron heir I’ll still be
at the end of the night.

You laugh at us,
you mock us,
but you don’t see what we’ve become.
Bursars and bishops,
psychologists and school teachers;
that’s what happens
when you let rumors be your guide
and gadji stories are your preachers.

A novelist I am,
a professor I’ll be;
just because I’m adopted,
doesn’t take my Romani pride from me.
My Oma still loves me,
her daughter shines bright like the sun;
but now the song is over,
when the book’s hardly begun.