The Sky Does Not Protest - Poem by Muhammad Shanazar
In the early years of my flavoured childhood,
Could not I differ between an evil and a good,
And went to the forest afar with my age fellows,
To collect, to gather the dry sticks or fire wood.
In summer seldom the swishing winds blew,
The grains of sand and contents of dust flew,
And made the clean spheres reddish brown,
We bundled the fuel as the harsh winds grew.
Contending the winds, to home we returned,
On each step blurring, blowing blows burned,
And we rested on the way beside the old well,
Wherefrom damsels obtained water churned.
They talked themselves with the concern deep,
About some innocent murder, they did weep,
Then I understood why the sky grew vague,
Why did winds raise dust, why they did beep?
Ah! The sky now does not protest, nor frown,
Nor change colour from blue to reddish brown,
He too might have grown accustomed to blood,
Though Man is killed in each village, each town.
Comments about The Sky Does Not Protest by Muhammad Shanazar
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye