1-
a sign
there is a sign
for terrible things
crawling towards our sinecures
2-
a nap
When my father got up
from his nap
his cigarette was
burning in my blood
3-
a path
they pass through my memory lightly
but everything in my head is heavy
poems by Ibtissam Ibrahim -'poetess and translator
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem