Lost soul
You too upload your mind
As the flames in the cage
Jordanian pilot of ISIS.
You are a woman when facing orthodox Jews
They, behave like Nazis, wear black boots
And are a Jew when talking of Israel.
You, alone amongst the enemies
You Poor Thing
Writing of the boots I recall Daddy
Sylvia Plath, filled with waves
Seas’ unstable cork, crazy
And on the walls, posters and graffiti’s
Message of imprisonment, wilderness
You too hang your brain
As machos did in gallows
And popes did with rebels
Hear what said Iqbal:
Repent of a young is prophetic
Every old is repentant.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem