- Manprasad Subba
Many nights have passed
Since Syria has not been able to sleep a wink in my eyes
Many days have passed
Since Syria, fallen unconscious,
Has not been able to wake up in my eyes
O friend! Do not ask about the map of Syria
Battered and bleeding face of any child
Is what they call Syria
The earth bleeds
And the blood flows upon blood
Even the Mediterranean Sea cannot wash them away.
There you can see the map of Syria.
Having lost the leg of a tottering baby,
The highway has lost its journey.
Having lost an arm of a baby,
The breeze has lost its sense of touch.
The smiling eyes of the sun
Hit by the splinter of bomb
Are suddenly swollen shut
And dreams have fled
The sky is swallowed by the billowing arsenic smoke
And all the beauties have vanished
Syria is screaming
From beneath the earth
Buried under the debris of crumbled time
O Seat of power! O Superpower!
How many thousands of ears do you need
To hear this scream?
Which latest model of binocular do you need
To see this face of Syria?
O Seat of power that breathes chemical breath,
How many millions of lungs do you want?
O Superpower that laughs hatching on the bombs,
How many millions
Of baby futures do you want?
I see you writhing in your tomb
To paint another Guernica,
The twenty-first century Guernica on the canvas of Syria!
Syria is the name of my mother,
My elder sister, my younger sister and my daughter
Syria is the name of my father,
My elder brother, my younger brother and my son
It’s also my own name!
But at this moment, O Syria!
I can do nothing
But to sit in a distant corner
And shed these words from my eyes
O Commanders of creeds!
Dip your tongues in the ponds of innocent bloods
And let your tongues know the taste of innocence
Those tongues would speak of paradise
But this piece of earth has turned into hell
Where the innocent souls have been dumped
Why are you so eerily mute?
We are waiting for your voice from heaven…
But how long will it be before you speak?