Sunday, May 30, 2004

From a poem (He Died Tomorrow) by Sudanese poet Muhammad Miftah Al-Fayturi (my translation):
"He died...
Not a single drop of rain was sad over his death
And no bunch of faces of people frowned
And the moon did not turn up
one night over his grave
and no lazy worm did bend
and no stone split
he died tomorrow...
dirty in his corpse..
forgotten in his shroud
like a dream..
--and the people awakened--
like a filthy tornado!"