Mohammad Ahmad
02-18-2017, 09:23 AM
Birds would come back to nests
And I am alone and dissatisfied
Between shrubs and among hills
Hardly there is nectar
Although bees come and go
No street is there nor a straight way
But my emotion has been paved
By a string of an old guitar
Why is a man then wishing life?
Either to be a victim or thrown away paper.
Silly things might be revived
For unknown future of a captive man
They would jail him for a last breath
Then would bethink into a murmurous grief
To beseech his attorney who was absent
Then to settle inside the earth with elves
That Iraq is made for elves
Gnomelike people have arrived
That my hills vanished
As its nectar has been swallowed
And no bee has to come again.
And I am alone and dissatisfied
Between shrubs and among hills
Hardly there is nectar
Although bees come and go
No street is there nor a straight way
But my emotion has been paved
By a string of an old guitar
Why is a man then wishing life?
Either to be a victim or thrown away paper.
Silly things might be revived
For unknown future of a captive man
They would jail him for a last breath
Then would bethink into a murmurous grief
To beseech his attorney who was absent
Then to settle inside the earth with elves
That Iraq is made for elves
Gnomelike people have arrived
That my hills vanished
As its nectar has been swallowed
And no bee has to come again.