The way a tank looks in the sunset
Yellow loam pantries
Rise over the tired forehead
Covering some free impetus
Of the Tiger that breathes hot plate air!
The women are dressed in black,
And, holding their children by the hand,
They walk among barbed wire,
Revenged by long gone man.
The air is full of corps, is full of ashes too!
Everybody walks among firearms,
And me, full of anger, I revenge against anyone
In a strange air full of alarms
When mom breaths beside me,
I dream of the sunset tree`s fairytale,
Its tender color tells me about better,
About the same thing told before
Rose and purple colors knit
The left side tree among rays,
Its shadow is a human gesture
Untwining kamikaze hopes.
But in the right side of this tree,
I`ve forgotten about this joke,
It`s not me, the child of Iraq,
In the sunset of my joy lies a tank!