The Germans
Most of times I feel lost
In storm I am a particle; or am dust!
As if in Moscow and
Corner of Red Square!
Wine of time
With barrel-filled-cellar
Hand in hand with Khayyam
With his book comes Hafez
And Mani and Arzhang!
We drink and then dance
To Rumi's with Hallaj
Drunk with divine's wine!
And I am a baby
Laid aside with sheep, cow,
Christians call me: "God"!
Then I move deep in time
First Big-Bang to two wars
With Germans; most spies!
With Sorge and Tania:
"Hitler is criminal, "
"Che is God! "
I see hair and thread
Pulled away; a life change!
What if not?
What if patch had remained?
Then I read of Richard
"Sorge, German but a spy; Soviets'"
And think of Arguedas
"A turncoat, CIA's but also communist! "
In storm I am dust,
This is why I feel lost!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
well said Nassy. It's hard if you've got the choice