Nothing but a man - Nadia Tueni

Nothing but a man

let's execute him against the door.

The morning of taking him away was robed

with the freshness of water;

it would be best to finish him off

against a door of blue wood.

His knees were knees of water

a forehead of oak under the rain.

He told me: "talk

of this flower dying according to the curve

of a thought,

of oblivion it offers in the shelter of

the sun,

and of multiplied love". . .

Enough.

We shot him against the light

and let hatred rise like baked bread.

Maybe I'll weep for him.

It was simple in the deep earth

and brief.

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Nadia Tueni [Nadia Mohammad Ali Hamade] (1935 – 1983) Lebanon

Translator not stated

Source: My Poetic Side