Canada Dry
Born too far; over seas
Our houses made of mud
Gravel were the roads, if ever
Late fifties; I ended in Tehran.
Lemonade in bottles, strange
I saw it as played, was a game
Young came face to face
Hooked the tops like two rams
Pulled and pulled till someone’s
Turned open, came out gas and the rest
If bottle was opened, meant a loss.
Then more drinks in bottles
Came Pepsi, Sinalco, Canada
The latter, with “Dry”.
Years are gone and decades
Roads shifted and shrunk
I am now somewhere else
Once again “Canada”
Like water in bottle
It is wet, not “Dry”.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem