After death
The kid who came ashore in Turkey
Was cursing:
“You bastards; you lairs…”
And went on…
He had wings, like angels
In sky was a piece of cloud in the light of the sun
Pink, golden, of sunset:
“You bombed us, we escaped, died on way…”
Then cried some drops, fell pearl-like:
“You spoke, some shouted, on the roads, in senates…”
The boy went with the wind, became wake…
Thin, curly, very long, like plane’s:
“You repeat the same thing; you kill kids
In their beds; hospital…
They are dead, no photo reporter
Media and you, dumb, you are deaf.”
Then he went as go sun, and daylight.
Voice remained:
“Your tear, crocodile’s…is worthless.”
The tone was obvious:
“For a while; after death.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem