Protest Poem by azadeh Davachi

Protest

Rating: 5.0


The words are on the roofs
The protests on the infant’s mouth
With sweet taste
Thou, O sweet torture!
How you got the odor of June
The odor of July that does not give birth to
Oh mother!
Water your flowerpot
The stock will be your guest
Oh father!
Hide your farm
The cold sickle
Set the harvest on your high stack
Rallies are marching in the rivers
And are martyred in my house’s ceiling
O starless night!
Wait for the month that will leave you
O a brown day!
Have you heard the green news?
That is conscious and free
That wipes its larynx across your body
The prayers on the minaret
And the sun on the floor
Pull the trigger and see the words
That arising my city’s face. Released.
I’m alive even now you shoot me

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