Land your tender feet on the desert
wait for the coarse and crumbled voice:
You are about to enter Aleppo,
the warzone hides you close ahead.
Amidst the dreary smoke from Aleppo
grandma is cooking her Champa rice.
Nothing happened except in the news
and she would hear it and leave a sigh.
News has been broken once a while
"Aleppo is taken! Retreat Justice a night! "
but what shall there be more than curious
more than searching-novelty eyes?
I haven't been to Aleppo, let's be frank,
I haven't experienced war, let's be frank.
I haven't heard a gunshot, let's be frank,
So have you all, so let's all be frank.
Thus we take the news in complacency
and simulate battles in tapes and Lego
for the smoke from Aleppo, aloof and dirty,
would never fly in our humble pueblos,
As if amidst the smoke from Aleppo,
the children's cry, the veiled evils,
have transcended our numb senses
when a 20-second ad intrudes.
"We'll keep you updated.
We're from Aleppo."
You leave with a sigh and tie your shoes.
"A busy day, folks. Plenty to do."
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem