Autumn in the Middle east.
The leaves are rustling,
Crunching under our feet.
Up in the cold sky mustering,
Birds to the south retreat.
Moving, as if to circle the world -
When will the exodus cease ? -
Cranes in a wedge move south
from the cold,
People's cries are sadder than birds' -
Tears in their eyes don't dry.
Who knows when the people will
come back home ?
While birds will return by and by.
No, I will never, never forget
The wind, autumnal and wet,
The cry of the cranes and people,
And there, on the shore,
Families, destineres bleak and blank.
Ingen kommentarer:
Legg inn en kommentar