Corpses’ mounds

October 17, 2007

Soaring bombs on the horizon
Veiled the dazzling stars,
Sweet streams that turned to poison
Quelled the thirst of war.

What else remains to be altered?
Save our beating hearts
Every thing has come to halt.
Now: we can see the eclipsed moon
Through our broken vault
All is left, to cure these wounds,
A pit of bitter salt.

Though roar of guns has deafened us
We still can hear a song
Song that begins with the growl
Ends up in the moan
When Siren sings some magic chants
We get astounded
We sing along all night long
To amuse the flock of hounds.

What peasant mourned? A field of corn
That shone like golden crown,
Hungry fire consumed it all
Left ashes on the ground.

What tyrant found? Corpses’ mounds
Lying on the ground
Wild guns devoured these folks
And strewed them all around.



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