Baby spider ran after his mama.
He scuttled over the hot desert sand.
He longed for shelter from the burning sun.
'Mama, why are we moving over here? '
'Thanks to President Omar Al-Bashir,
Now we have our choice of all these burned huts.
The walls are still standing, and they are strong.
Ah, I'll weave my web in this roofless hut.
Here, I'll put his picture on the wall.
Because of him, we have our new home,
So, make sure his picture hangs straight, son.
Now I must finish this web and catch flies.'
'Mama, why did President Al-Bashir
Burn huts and kill the Darfurians
Or cause them to run and hide for their lives? '
'He did it to bring peace, my son.
And just see how peaceful it is here now! '
Mama spider sang as she wove her web.
'Mama, how can he bring peace by killing? '
'CHREE! CHREE! Now see, dear, you made me lose count!
It was an accident. He's after rebels.'
'But, Mama, he's killing Darfurians.'
Carefully mama spider patched her web.
Come, fat little fly, ' she crooned, 'Come rest here.
'Yes, too bad he killed innocent people.'
A bumbling fly flew into her new web.
She beamed. 'But you see it's not his fault if fleeing
Women and small children look like rebels.'
'But, Mama! Women and children don't look...'
'ECH! ECH! ECH! Enough questions now, my son.
Just look at the flies my web has caught!
These flies have feasted well and so shall we! '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem