If I could be urbane like you
Vocal, and could write graffiti.
If I could catch eyes
Of a shoot, and in orange knickers.
If like you, I could only know
Where from the missile come.
If I could only know
My enemy, who lives with me.
If they all would meet,
The Oh I Sees, -OICs, on a toast to me
If he stops burning me with oil and I know UNSG.
If the big Sevens, the Sam
Make telephone calls on my ‘incident'.
If the black hawks
Flew away from me, and if
The CCN show roaring jets,
Gunship helicopters
And the IDP tent, my ultimate dwell,
My training camp. I am made for bombs,
Nearing my severally populated tombs.
-A Pashtun boy to a Palestinian boy.
Sadiqullah Khan
Islamabad
July 18,2014.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem