Calgary Poem by Nassy Fesharaki
Calgary
“My son too, ” he cries
“As are yours, is killed; gone.”
And tear pours like rain
And aloof he stands on the side,
As do cats when done wrong.
His son went to party.
With his knife five are killed.
No one knows ‘what cause was, ’
Dead are five and killer
Some-how’s dead.
The father to killer
Is mourning; for all kids.
Not for one of the five but all six
Considered betrayer
His pain is a mountain
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 5:36:53 PM # 1.0.0.1119
