Stars - Ahmed ALajmi

While the night plays its thoughts,

Allowing the stars to dance naked,

We sit–me and my portable radio–

On an old table

And as always

I gaze at the tedious towers.

When the scales drop

Their arms on our table,

The radio begins to stammer;

This poor, sick planet–

Bulldozers destroy its nesting birds,

Rockets

Target its mountain wildflowers, and

Bombs shatter its ribcage.

Little stars would be only too happy

To bathe in its lakes

And serve as dolls for its children,

But they fear the gods of war

Who can

Pin stars

On their shoulders!

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Ahmed ALajmi (born 1958) Bahrain

Translated by William Hutchins

Source: inTRANSLATION