to the veiled sun
The skirt of the Rhine is wet today.
The bathroom cabinet has turned yellow
A pile of wandering beards lined up
The path to the sewer is traffic
Tell Sohrab
You can't even wash your hands.
I think about Kabul
To the bride of the murdered dreams
To the pieces of dreams born in Khonab
To the Migrants of Oruzgan
To Ismail Mazbouh
pieces of people's sacrifices are spread to Rome, to Paris, to Berlin and Washington.
My liver is blood.
Another fight
Ukraine war or Afghan revolution?
I do not know,
So much that the earth is walking in the bowl of my head.
They have stolen the smiles
Dinner instead of morning!
This was not the case before.
Don't criticize me
The coffin that I carry is heavy,
God bless you
Burial and shroud take time!