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My Prophet Mohammad
My Prophet Mohammad
My Prophet
In the end of the world
There
The pain spreads
A superstitious bird
The possessor of a long beak
Nay many beaks
Ignite our backs with kisses
And build their nests from Iraq's wounds.
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My Prophet
I complain to you about this era's roosters
Their empty portfolios
Then where to escape
O Iraqi people.
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Occupation or mobs
The same to me
Both of them
Devour Iraq's meat.
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There the orphan
Frizzed hair
Combed by hunger with words,
A child
His separated steps
Made him
Drawn dining-tables
From dates
Loaves
And water.
My prophet
We became full
From the killing
The belittling
And the murdering
With sin
Or without sin
The eyes vomited,
By your name we kill each other
Revenge each other
Fool each other
And by your name we abate each other's rights.
My prophet
Your good sons
Drowned
To their gills they sink,
And every night
When
The captains arrive
Or the vile people
Instead
Of licking their wounds
On their heads they step.
My prophet Mohammad
The principle
In all directions
Is a different color
A new dress,
Traveling dust
Covering the noses
And a breeze that riles the clearness of life.
My prophet Mohammad
On your path
My prophet
We were left
Thus
As the moon is alone
We look at the sky without awe
We befriend the bloods
And the mortality
We melt in your love
And your flowing crawls in our souls
We reached you thus
Pearls
Our hearts are white
Like spadix of the date palm.
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