Yemeni Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Plumes of smoke a mortar shell hits brown rocks,
Does it ever rain in this country?
Two warring tribes and yes it is Yemen again, only this time
Americans with their drones have taken side
Both tribes are equally awful
I think they chose the one that speaks the best English.
From the bridge of my I saw Yemen through my binoculars
And it looked like a place fit for wild goats and
eccentric with crumbed, ornate knives
A place for dust coloured mountain ranges and thorny bushes
Too hardy to be rained on.
Yet squabbling people live here and fight and fight for reason
That is older than history; and over this ancient landscape
The Americans strew drones like it should be wedding confetti.