O mother....

[aldopacific at gn.apc.org]

Another by the same writer....

I wish war had never been created.
I wish the seed of war had never been sown.
War has swallowed so many children,
War has destroyed so many blossoms.
Our earth has experienced so many wars,
Our earth is left in ruins by wars.
My children are murdered by war,
My heart has shed blood by war.
I wish war had never been created,
I wish the seed of war had never been sown.



>From a poem by Siyavush Kasrai.....

Look at our homeland!
It is a cage of mourning birds 
which have bleeding beaks.
Look at its earth!
The torn remnants of red tulips rise up from it.
Look at its roads
A caravan of poverty and refugees are waving.
Look at its sky
Where the angry clouds are rolling...


>From Armaghan-e Hejaz

What shall I say about the poor, suffering Muslim,
valuable only as a human being?
He has neither energy nor excitement in his blood.
His hands are as empty as his pockets.
Do not tell me that God has done this.
You can wash away dust by this excuse.
Turn upside down this world - where
the unjust steals from the just.


>From Blake's Everlasting Gospel....

The Vision of Christ that thou does see,
Is my Vision's Greatest Enemy...
Thine loves the same world that mine hates,
Thy Heaven doors are my Hell gates...
Both read the Bible day and night,
But thou read'st black where I read white.


>From a peom by Hakimeh Billuri....

I love my people much, very much.
Not because I am related to them;
They appreciate one's service -
   Because of this I love them.

They love guests -
   Because of this I love them.
They are not interested in lining their pockets,
But in filling their hearts,
Thinking about others' pain....

Affection cannot be bought and sold,
Love and service cannot be hindered,
Work is regarded Holy.
For these reasons my people make me life -
   the people's affection.
And this longing to see my motherland
   Can also kill me.

****** the above all come from Sabri-Tabrizi's book, Mainstream
       publishing, UKP 14.95, 1989 *************

.... and one from Adrienne Rich, American feminist poet...

My heart is moved
by all I cannot change.
So much has been destroyed.
I have to call my lot 
with those
who age after age
perversely
with no extraordinary power
Reconstitute the world.


			               (Dream of a Common Language)