In a passing poem Pretty cane dolls Fish were magically dancing Moved by sweet winds. Along the straight piers A flock of dark hooks Darting all the time Tracing a map at the face of a newborn poem. Not too far At the snack owner’s face Indifferently, Staring to passersby too Staring with deep sadness. In the first line exactly, I saw… Clearly, Dogs shedding sticky tears Some tiny Peebles falling too. At the bottom of the river I saw… Truly, Here, Orphaned children playing Virgin games Total eternal forget So was things’ awareness. How terrible wars are! How ugly a sniper is! There, With a hardened cruel heart Riding the ridge of a rooftop towards a field of pure childhood Persistent bloody striking Distorted skinny bodies And unstoppable red fires. (Translated into English by Mohamed Moukhariq) * On the verge of total collapse From a window of the wall I stretch out my hand. While, The other hand Feels its right path Along the ancient deep wall. I on...