Haifa Oranges
The sky is light blue or pallid
It is late afternoon
Clouds are burgundy and
The sun is a Haifa blood orange
Picked by a Palestinian's
Gnarled hands.
Once this was his land, but an historical
Tremor came
He has resigned; this is Allah's will.
But his sons think otherwise,
Blood orange, one day
Blood will overflow run down gutters
As we have another tremor that
Will rumble on, everlasting family feud.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem