‘ the entry to their past and
future is locked.'
proclaimed a border police officer joyfully
border
is like a pond
covered by gold powder its surface
not every waterfowl
can take a flight
while the spiky tortoise
lurking underneath
murky waters
on the border
the roaring mass sedated
a standing man
who's buried his wife in black barren clouds behind
holding
a nearly frozen baby
angrily stretching her tiny hands
to grip the sun
and suffocate it
i was running to get them
some butter, bread and canned beans
i thought to my self
‘ in all our humble humaneness
we cannot save the humanity.'
fraidoon warasta
09 november 2021
on the train to amsterdam
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem