A big tree in Cambodia
Higher than others in the forest
Good fruit at the top
We Khmer cannot reach.
All the house doors are open
All the Khmer pass through
they look pale and weak
But in their hearts so strong and brave
To prepare for death.
High officials smile.
They greedily reach out their hands
To latch on to neighboring China and Vietnam
To make steadfast friends
But losing all in those friendships.
We never learn from the past.
On false pretence once again they come
To develop their own nations
While the Khmer kill each other
And lose all.