IN FRONT OF ME THE POT AND RICEPOT AND BURNING FLAMES AND

There have been for ages
Objects always placed
In front of us women,
A pot of sufficient size
To match our strength and
A ricepot designed especially for fat
Simmering shiny rice and
In front of the glow from the fire that we have inherited from the
beginning of history
Were always our mothers and grandmothers and their mothers also.

What amount of love and faithfulness
Did they pour into these objects?
At times it was red carrots
Black kelp
Diced fish

In the kitchen
There always occurred the correct preparations for breakfast and lunch
and dinner
Before the preparations there were always rows of
Warm hands and knees.

Ah were it not for these rows of people
How could the women have so cheerfully
Done the cooking time and time again?
This is the face of an indefatigable love
This is the face of service performed day after day so that it becomes a
matter of routine.

The mysterious irony that made cooking
The task of women
Was not ill-fortune I believe
Because of it learning and worldly status
May lag behind but
It is not too late
What is in front of us is
The pot and ricepot and burning flames and

In front of these beloved objects
Just like we cook meat and potatoes
With a deep love
Let us study politics and economics and literature.

Not for the sake of pride or worldly fame but
In order for these things
To be offered to all humanity
To work towards these things with humanity itself as the object of our
love.

IN FRONT OF ME THE POT AND RICEPOT AND BURNING FLAMES AND