Peace – A poem by Zhakan Baran Malkshahi
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Jakan Baran Malekshahi
Constant coughs
Dirty throat
Bloody phlegm
The weather of these days on earth…
Earth;
This greedy old man with a crooked nose
Whose rivers are streams of blood
His houses are prisons, his prisons are cells
The cells are cold and damp dungeons
His law is the jungle, his jungles are full of sharp wood
Rulers
Hidden behind the mask of freedom
They have raised flags of peace
Over mass graves
Every moment with a heavenly book
In the war of gods
And like bats in the darkness of night from horses,
Drunk, they spill blood
Of people who have become the shields of religions
Generals
They are the conductors of terror and out of fear of being forgotten
They play the symphony of death
On the lifeless stage of the city
Every house is a house
That rises to dance
With the sound of roaring cannons
So
Peace Poetry Zakan Baran Malkshahi پیمان صلح ماهنامه خط صلح ماهنامه خط صلح