Street Children Poem by Istabraq Al Ahmadi

In the dead stillness of the night,
When the moon is fair, full and bright,
On the cold cobblestone children lay
Butted like butts in a filthy ashtray.
Hark!
Alone they are left in corners dark,
There, empty faces at them bark!
And within just a few paces,
In the clean well-lighted places,
They hear mothers softly singing,
And bells merrily forever ringing
To children resting their small heads
On downy cushions in warm beds,
And with kisses and embraces they
Are showered by mothers every day.

The children hear the heavy footfalls
Of high-heeled shoes in dancing halls.
They knew the rain, they knew the cold
They feel the hope of dreams and joy take hold.
They knew too well the scorching heat
That roughens cheeks and burns bare feet.

The sound of laughter of the passers-by
That mounts the buildings and towers high,
The sighs of the children and their tears,
Shot at their hearts like blinded spears,
The woe and fear in their voices felt,
The pain in their eyes and faces met,
And the tremble in their nimble feet as they ran
Sounded death knell music of every man.