Three Poems Of Hadaa Sendoo Poem by Hadaa Sendoo

NOMADS

In the flaming Gobi desert
welcoming the last day of golden fall
a herdsman drives a camel forward
and with it, a hound
Is their journey distant from mine?
As the boundless Gobi joins the sky
on the tallest hump...

that turns into a Mongolian yurt
while my eyes are dazzled on this
Mongolian plain
and the lovely green empire in my soul
has never fallen down...
Isn't the pure white Mongolian yurt
my last real home?

IT IS NOT TRUE I HAVE NO HOME
It isn't true that I have no home
I say so to myself
when I feel sad
It isn't true thatI have no home
My home is a rising sun
But now it looks like a cold moon
with knitted brows
It isn't true that I have no home
My home is a stack of hay
Who will turn it over to let it dry?

THE WIND
Coming in naked
Going out naked
When we were born
there was only the wind
When we die
there will only be the wind

In my dreams
you have stroked my dry hair and
passed throughhopeless
stone markers of national boundaries

Absent, you pass across the land
and kiss the quiet sky
roaring your contempt

Where will the fragrance of the wind go?
Where will its retribution come from?

We know nothing of
the weeping wind
the wandering wind
the singing wind