Le soldat qui transporte en courant sa fille blessée Poem by RAED WAHESH
Le soldat qui transporte en courant sa fille blessée
Il a jeté son arme
Annulé sa courte permission
Et couru en pleurant…
De retour chez lui sans elle
Il a dit à sa femme : la peau de son visage est satinée… toutes les mains, tous les cœurs sont de la poudre à canon.
Wednesday, August 28, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: son
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8/30/2026 2:52:40 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
