Naveed Akram (15 December 1973 / London, England)

A soldier cows an intimidated man,
With the consciousness of an ordinary man;
Admiration strikes at the crib of a wonderful man
Who never afflicts the other person.

Revulsion converts into satisfaction of the soul,
As the soul avows to reconsider the situation of the face,
Declaring nobody to enter and shake the promise
Given. A soldier does not know his autonomy.

A soldier constructs cubes and shapes of dice,
Beginning to snap at the showers from the sky.

With avarice more is drunk, to be this authority with water
Is to be certain of the Hereafter.
The sovereignty of the heavens and earth
Is not like a dreadful awe,
But damnation strikes at those who disagree
With the powers of the land and heart.

This is not avant-garde, it comprises the youth,
And seems ungainly to babies of young stature.

I want my cloudless deaths to be hearty.
I want this death to be done again.