Guardian Shadow 2 Poem by Mohammed Dib
Guardian Shadow 2
But I'll barely sing
so that your pain not
impinge on your sleep;
Peace to you, mothers, wives,
the blood-drinking tyrant
will be dust in your
winnowing baskets.
I walk on the mountain
where approaching spring
puts scented herbs:
All of you who listen to me,
when dawn softens, I'll
come and wash your thresholds.
And my songs will stifle
time's ululations.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/30/2024 8:09:56 AM # 1.0.0.1119
