We had broken the roads
but the enemy had land-cruisers
We had destroyed the bridges
but the enemy used pontoons
In the evening shells exploded
we crept back towards our homes
I hid in the broken kitchen
of a house I didn’t know
tanks rolled by in the morning
the last day of our town
I hid in a kitchen cupboard
when half the house fell down
one tank turned towards me
it heard my beating heart
I was hiding in an eggcup
when the world was blown apart
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Okay Sean, I read this as a metaphor for the worlds we create around us, that are so small: our personal worlds. These are always under attack from outside forces, whether from our individual relationships to others or the social interaction that we cannot escape from. This, for me, is a fantastic way of commenting on them, but hiding in one's eggcup. Well for some, when the odds are overwhelming. And this iswhat this poem seems to be saying.