Treasure Island

Nazim Hikmet

(1902-1963 / Turkey)

Hiroshima Child


I come and stand at every door
But none can hear my silent tread
I knock and yet remain unseen
For I am dead for I am dead

I'm only seven though I died
In Hiroshima long ago
I'm seven now as I was then
When children die they do not grow

My hair was scorched by swirling flame
My eyes grew dim my eyes grew blind
Death came and turned my bones to dust
And that was scattered by the wind

I need no fruit I need no rice
I need no sweets nor even bread
I ask for nothing for myself
For I am dead for I am dead

All that I need is that for peace
You fight today you fight today
So that the children of this world
Can live and grow and laugh and play

Submitted: Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Do you like this poem?
2 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Hiroshima Child by Nazim Hikmet )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Onverflauwd groen en blauw-wit, Madrason writer
  2. गुलाब और सूरज, Ashutosh ramnarayan Prasad K ..
  3. misfortune, oskar hansen
  4. गुलाब और सूरज, Ashutosh ramnarayan Prasad K ..
  5. गुलाब और सूरज, Ashutosh ramnarayan Prasad K ..
  6. गुलाब और सूरज, Ashutosh ramnarayan Prasad K ..
  7. Terminus, Concedo Nulli, Guillermo Veloso
  8. George Moir Black, Edgar Albert Guest
  9. The Spoiler, Edgar Albert Guest
  10. The Wide Outdoors, Edgar Albert Guest

Poem of the Day

poet Henry Lawson


The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
...... Read complete »

   

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]