Ahmad
Ahmad is the young lad
He enters pens in hand
All striped, black-white
Ahmad was an expert, miracle
He made shapes out of shades
Danced on walls dogs and cats
People talked, camels walked
On the wall, screen from lamp
Master of stories said of pens:
"Look, hedgehogs threw back
I threw the stones, then stood
Watched spikes were arrows"
An inkpot, pen-spikes and he wrote
Mostly green was the ink in the pot
His face with, memories are remote.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem