Best Poem of Yahia Al-Samawy

The Last Poem
I want for myself:
twenty hands,
A sheet of paper large as a tropical forest,
A pen big as a palm-tree,
A well of black ink,
to write my last poem
Pouring in it my anxiety,
the paleness of children who exchange their school bags for beggars' tools, their toys for shoe-shine boxes
My last poem long as . . .
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Don'T Light The Candles
Don't light the candles, Shahrazad
Shahriyar lays waste a town a night
He bathes his madness in its blood
He pours fires into the vessels of peace.
Leave the country
There is famine in Basra
The plague in Baghdad
And on the roads the secret police and an ill will
Throw the mirrors away—
The m . . .
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