Abdel-Aziz Haider
This is the mind
This is what make you a toy
His rusting swing...... and the roar of his iron
And his tired springs
Does not take you one step further... Where are the swings of your childhood and youth from them?
His extended thread to meters..... flying in the air... in the free space
This is the mind.....
That steam engine obsolete by the time
Where are these dancing figures from them?
And melodies changing to colors… overlapping...... Jumping
You yourself is transformed to old machine
Except for some oil of love.. and the remnants of the desire moving under your wrinkled skin
Your springs may cease... and the activator of sparkle inactivating
2010 - Baghdad
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem