War
Is impending over our heads,
And Alah Din of Death,
Having the lamp in his hands,
Is waiting for a signal.
Smoke is rising
From the branches of olive,
To see the blind,
The useless,
And the heap of broken bodies,
Is the fate of our eyes.
I am seeding the flowers,
Life, freedom, and peace.
On the chest of barren borders
"Peace through war" is the game
Of weapon merchants,
The powers at war have brutal relation
With one another.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem