Silent Parade Poem by Fadhil Al Azzawi

Placing my hands in my torn pockets,
Walking down the street,
I saw them watching me suspiciously
From behind the glass panes of stores and cafés.
They walked out quickly and followed me.
I deliberately stopped to light a cigarette
And turned around, like someone giving his back to the wind,
To catch a glimpse of this silent parade:
Thieves, kings, murderers, prophets, poets
Jumped out of everywhere
To walk behind me
And wait for my signal.
I shook my head in surprise
And walked on whistling
The tune of a popular song,
Pretending I was playing a part in a film
And that all I have to do is to walk on forever
To the bitter end.