On The Threshold Of 2010 Poem by Muhammad Shanazar

Days blend into weeks, and weeks into months,
Months make years, and years compose centuries.

I stand on the verge of 2009: the threshold of 2010,
With my kids overshadowed by apprehensions.
Here at the entrance of the valley of 2010,
I vividly see fog of smoke hovering over the hills,
Forces of the kings running in helter-skelter,
Using the most fatal weapons to snatch
The reserves of oil and the treasures of soil.
The same ancient law of forest is in vogue again
With full fervour, with fresh teeth, new-fangled hunger.
An amphitheatre of human bodies stretched
On the slopes and each rock is coloured red.
I smell the reeking stench of burning blood,
And shades being murdered of thousand of trees,
I fear passing through the valley of horrible events,
Where I shall have to go on leaving behind
At each step injured or murdered fellow beings.
Here I stand forlorn and I can not respond the question
Of my kids overshadowed by apprehensions,
“Criminals, defaulters are the elder but the recipient
Of unjust punishment will be the younger,
Or those who will step into the world in 2010.”