Inside my apartment the sun is living
The kids are running like rabbits on the grass…
Everything is not in place except my heart
My books are lonely
My head is like a huge mass…
My time is not mine…
The strange thing that I don’t care…
The spring is there
Everything is wearing pink
The songs are flying
Butterflies are sometimes crying
But most of the time dancing is the rule
Your only choice, mammy, is to come and share…
Inside my apartment I am feeling God everywhere…
Wael Karameh.
October 4,2008.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem