INTHIFADHA

  Dear Jew

 Feel hungry now?

Haven’t you had a piece

Of my succulent breast

Just an hour ago?

Feel gravely?

Feel no tense to chop

The needed from the rest of my body.

The remaining cup of blood

Is seemed enough

To quench your thirst

For a time you

 Find one another.

If not hoping to get one

For your supper

Hurry up to my

Ruined home

Where, under the rubbles

You might find a piece of thigh 

Of my younger brother

Left behind by your colleague.

                                                                                            

                                                                                                                                       

                                                                       

RAINLESS CLOUDES                                                                                                                                                             

Why not you cry once more?                                                                                                         

Why those tears of beauty,                                                                                                                  

Kindness and love no longer flow?                                                                                                   

Your silver drops no longer                                                                                                               

Jewel the breast of mother, the earth                                                                                                                                                                    

And seen always naked and dried.                                                                                                                 

Your very drops got pregnant                                                                                                                   

Her womb, but the seeds are                                                                                                                           

Now, being aborted.

Her offsprings often scarped

Her chest with hoe,

Where nothing to warm them

But dried flesh.

What is making you smile

Throwing at her your arrow rays

While her feel of misery?

Why not you are getting sorrow?

Ages before, you were sad

And your faces had looked black

While she got worried

And you shed your tears of kindness

Why not you be black?

Why not you cry once more?