Unbearable - Poem by Shafiqul Islam
Who will you talk to?
There are no young boys here,
no dawn comes here with chirping birds
and fruits and flowers.
Here middays and evenings and nights
are blind and unstrung,
and one full of sad laments.
Young boys sit here by the dead bodies
of their fathers
with dark grim faces.
And young girls only shed tears
and go on weeping.
And young men and women
wander in forests and hills
with firebands wound around
Even babies forget to suck
their mothers’ breasts.
They keep gazing at the sky
day and night.
Only earsplitting cries come to us,
only bomber planes, those messengers of death,
fly over our heads.
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