by Muhammad Shanazar
Now the spheres are sooty sable,
Man has adulterated Nature with His murky works,
Black rains pour down from the heavy clouds,
And rain-drops fall down not to wash
But to discolour and deform us more,
To broaden blackness on the surface of the Earth,
The downpour seems to be
The harvest of our own transgressions.
Ah! I remember the time of my childhood,
When polluted contents
Had not enveloped yet rotundity of the Earth.
In summer and spring times often after the rainfall,
When the skies around the Ball became too clear,
I felt enclosed in a huge transparent multicolour globe,
And discovered the rainbow in the sky.
While standing on the Earth I imagined,
The Old Mother of humanity oscillating with full splendour
On the swing made of ropes of seven colours,
Smiling on contentment of the children underneath.
Last updated June 22, 2011