Mehradad Nosrati

My Syrian Brother

A poem by: Mehrdad Nosrati Mehreshaer

Ours or yours, mind o' my Syrian brother
Politicians can never be our father
Believe them, all, never as our gardener
They're autumn to your flower and my flower
Let them not getting us against each other
And their illusory might vanishes there
Politicians pretending to foresight well
Are always hurling their people to a hell
I'm so concerned, o' my brother not of me
Cause of politics, think as your enemy
Asad, lion in the language of Arab
Now just means a puny rattraped in Halab
Apocalyptic believes, so secretly
Lend a mouse the shade of a lion bluntly
Even if the shade generated shadow
Of a real lion, who killed us also
Really and made real horror for man
This whim vanishes in the light of Koran
I‘m looking for a shiny day for you all
And an everlasting spring with no fall
Anyhow, mind my dear Syrian brother
Politicians can never be our father

Poem Submitted: Sunday, December 16, 2012

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