Shadows lengthening in diesel fumes;
Nine millimetres of time in the dusty sunlight;
Twenty millimetres of uniforms draped in ideologies:
The rushing sound of fear,
And carefully sown fields
Of children’s limbs,
Of the blood,
On my hands;
And the tears,
In my eyes,
Dry,
On the sands.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem