Screams of those dismantled bodies
are now resting in silence, the water of
the river has washed the blood and the
dreams of those men who declared
with pride -
'…this country is mine…'
It was a land surrounded by mountains
with bird-visitors and a forest nearby,
and a river flowing since the ancient time
now it was a war zone, and the blood
stained scattered transistors repeated -
'…a new day is near, freedom is ours…'
The little girl from village was walking
towards the forest to gather dry leaves,
she stumbled on a burnt-head, and fell into
the pit full of dead bodies
she did not scream, she did not faint
she stood up and left without complaint…
her family was called outcast since her
mother had dared to stop her father from
going to a war.
The woman wanted to build a family,
she nurtured peace, bloomed love, and
obeyed both her father and husband but
when the call came -
'…men must join forces, men must fight war
for the country, like men have done before…'
Her mother did not obey anymore; she stood
strong against the tide and even the political
threats made no difference.
The war, the death, the defeat, the loss, the cries,
the shadows, the darkness, the broken dreams,
the children born with futile beliefs, the women
abandoned and living like dead, yet the television
'…this country is yours, this war is yours
fight for freedom, die for freedom…'
The little girl's father told her stories:
of men from past and their glories
of men who loved family and freedom
of men who never fought battles without reasons.
She will bloom in a country of peace
she will walk through her own dreams
and for this
her father should not die
her mother should not cry
her family should not starve
her memories must not have scars.
So, the little girl walked towards the forest singing
her mother's favourite song -
'…I want freedom, you can keep war
I will have freedom, and you can fight a war…'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem