Choosing refuge
I must…I guess…
Stop reading the news,
To which I have become addict.
And again of my homeland
My people on thread of pains
In a long rosary; and ignored…
Among the war ridden refugees
Among the killed on the way to
Paradise of asylum…free
There are Iranians
Killed, burned, shouting
For liberty that they do not have
And what want so dearly
And do not get it…
Never,
Naturally
Freedom is the cloud
In the cosmos, not sky…
Has been a comet of fog…
From the days of the kings
To the days of clergies…
Burn yourselves friends and fly
To freedom as does the moth
And get me some power
A horse load of guts
To become wise, realize
That I too, am in same rabbit hole.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem