I wrote this poem for everybody who came to America and feels homesick for his or her native country.
It applies to all the world's nations.
Though things are good for you and joyful,
You still feel homesick for your country,
And sometimes you look back in longing
And share your sorrow with your loved ones.
Your thoughts pull you back to your roots then,
Where you were born amid your family.
You suffered much within your homeland,
But you feel very homesick for it.
You don't know if you should go back there,
Or whether you should stay for good here.
So should you stay or go, or travel
The world, which is a human habit?
Your thoughts keep up their mighty haunting.
You're at the crossroads of your life now,
For no one really knows the answer,
But tries to get rid of the longing.
That longing which torments a person,
You'd like to drown it in the ocean.
That nasty longing can destroy you,
It easily does in a person.
You need a bright idea to fight it:
Its name is Travel, it's right here now.
The plane is waiting at the airport,
You buy a ticket--hi, Old Country!
Your longing leaves you in a moment
Because you see your native homeland;
You and your family are ecstatic,
The world's turned different and so joyous.
And then you're homesick for America,
Your Second Fatherland by now,
So back you go again where you can
Make your own fortune with your hammer.

New York, February 1994                Kaziu Borucki