The Wounds Of History

When I think about the history
I see the wounds with blood spots
The crime against humanity speaks
The hatred and cruelties tell
The stories of inhuman souls
No nation can deny it with open heart
Their barbarism brought it to existence
The blood, the tears of child small
With flowing gear and stains on the wall
The cries of a mother with mad instinct
The heart breaking tortures of the time
Have ruined the souls of so many youths

When I think about the history
I see the earth being wounded
I see the moon mourning and crying
At her ruined lovers and admirers
I see the stars in the deadly grief
On their friends the cute children
I see the sky shedding idle tears
On the deserted boom of the globe

by Abdul Sattar

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