Seeds 

I have a plan for the plants of the planet, all plants, from A to Z –

four species are enough, the alphabet is too long.

In a test tube see me dive

straight to the heart of the cell, see me slide down the ribbon

of the spinning spiral stairs, with a platinum syringe I inject a hormone,

I straighten a chromosome, I add a brand new genome,

then I rush back up like lightning to admire the masterpiece:

a suicidal,

colour-changing seed.

Before the seed is sown

I must first slay the fields: here with charcoal weeds, here with the ink

of double-dealing lawyers, here with the agent orange of my saliva.

In the Americas, Africa, India, wherever there is open space,

I’ll sell the seeds in scores

with their purpose-made herbicide, until the face of the earth blossoms with deserts of green.

It’s not a question of luck:

with fertiliser the harvest is certain, overflowing, rich,

with nine-month contracts and the sole condition

that whoever keeps seeds for the following season I will take to court.

If the groundwater becomes polluted I’ll buy it, filter it

and re-sell it,

if the children grow warts I’ll give them a toy

to take it out on,

if the garden of a farmer fertilises with patented pollen

I’ll snatch away with an edict all of his lands.

Thus every acre of the land

I will tread without lifting my shoes: under the lens of the microscope

I’ll build an entire empire, a cornucopia of copies – the realm of mouths,

of stomachs, of bowels.

In my hands the palette of the world: gold in the soya, silver in the rice, tomorrow I’ll submit a patent

on the dew.

Such is my patron saint,

and such is the multinational taste of my name on everyone’s plate.

Antoine Cassar

Original Maltese version

Żrieragħ 

Jien għandi pjan għall-pjanti tal-pjaneta, il-pjanti kollha, mill-A saż-żeta –

erba’ speċijiet biżżejjed, l-alfabet twil wisq.

Ġo provetta arani nogħdos

dritt għal ġo qalb il-ċellula, niżżerżaq maż-żagarella tal-garigor idur idur,

bit-trapan tal-platinu ninjetta ormona, niddritta kromożoma, inżid ġenoma ġdida,

imbagħad nitla’ lura sitta sitta ħa nitgħaxxaq bil-kapulavur: żerriegħa suwiċida, kanġikulur.

Qabel tinżera’

jeħtieġ li nkaxkax l-għelieqi: hawnhekk bil-ħxejjex imfaħħma, hawnhekk bil-linka

tal-avukati mxaħħma, hawnhekk bl-aġent oranġjo ta’ riqi.

Fl-Amerki, fl-Afrika, fl-Indja, kulfejn hemm il-kobor, inbigħ iż-żrieragħ bil-bosta bl-erbiċida għal tal-apposta, sa ma wiċċ id-dinja jitwarrad b’deżerti ħodor.

Mhix kwistjoni ta’ xorti:

bil-fertilizzant il-ħsad isir żgur, ifur, sinjur,

bil-kuntratti ta’ disa’ xhur bil-kundizzjoni biss

li min jerfa’ żrieragħ għall-istaġun li jmiss intellgħu l-qorti.

Jekk l-ilma tal-pjan jitniġġes nixtrih, insaffih

u nerġa’ nbigħu,

jekk it-tfal irabbu d-dbabar intihom ġugarell

ħa jiżvogaw miegħu,

jekk il-ġnien ta’ bidwi jiddakkar bil-polline ppatentat

immurlu b’editt u naħtaflu l-artijiet kollha tiegħu.

B’hekk kull tomna tal-art

għad nirfisha bla nħarrek iż-żraben: taħt il-lenti tal-mikroskopju

nibni imperu sħiħ, kornukopja ta’ kopji – is-saltna tal-fommijiet, tal-istonkijiet,

tal-imsaren.

F’idejja t-tavlozza tad-dinja:

fis-sojja d-deheb, fir-ross il-fidda, għada nissottometti privattiva fuq in-nida.

Hekk qaddisi,

u hekk it-togħma multinazzjonali t’ismi fuq platt kulħadd.

Antoine Cassar