Bloodshed Poem by Akhtar Jawad

So you still hold blood responsible for all our deeds,
Red blood in whitish, blackish, yellowish or brownish domes,
Frozen on the marble floors of the high palaces,
That are blamed to be the lord's actual homes!

On the walls and the roofs I saw images and the names
Of the owner of such an inviting silky drawing room,
In a new dress I decorated myself as a beautiful slave,
A bullet, my blood, I looked at the doors of retiring room.

The doors didn't open nobody came out of the room,
I ran away wildly and saw blood of an innocent animal,
Frozen on an street of a dirty cosmopolitan town,
Who was sacrificed to save my life on a great festival!

My dirty blood that is still frozen on the white marbles,
Bid farewell to me but after a tragic bloodshed,
Was it the sacrifice of an animal that saved my life?
May be, but I still think was that guilty who was dead!