Karakul
Heard sobbing of a lamb
Not tear, no cry
It could not
Eyes closed
Was still in water of the womb.
It addressed the lone God,
Directly complained
Of the ram and mother
Made flames in the dark
This is how:
"Did I sin?
Did I do anything?
Wrong or fault?
Then why I?
Tell me why?
Why should I?
Pay price of pride?
Be the maid of the mist, sacrificed?
For terror of single Narcissist?
Or his faith or belief?
Or culture or nature; or his will?
Mother, me, and why we?
Just because of skin
My fury, dark, soft skin?
Be murdered and be killed?
So they wear Karakul to show off?
So they sit in palace and demand?
Poor woman, pregnant on a child
I still in water of the womb
Mother's pain of labour and my birth
Meant our deaths without right…"
Lamb and I were busy in our talk
Came the mail of Joan:
"Let us fight bomb-making materials…"
I read on:
"If it falls into hands of terror, terrorists…"
I stopped and smiled:
Who is that?
How can we describe?
From eye of a lamb? Western law?
The law set with terror…sword and gun, dynamite?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem