Friday, September 1, 2017




If I were an eagle
my wide wings
would carry me there,
where nobody wants to go.
There, where every morning
is as dark as evening.
There, where man kill other man, o man!
There, where tears flow like rivers
where blood is redder
than everywhere.
There, where the child
is crying for their father
and the son is crying
for his mother,
And the wise man is crying for the truth.
There, where the roses of Damascus don’t smell
and the lovers don’t sigh in love anymore.
There, where gate Bab –Tuma is destroyed,
and where people once
each other met and loved,
there is no gate. no more.
The people disappeared
they all are gone.
Nobody meets
each other anymore
Neither in the mosque
nor in the church
to pray.
There, where human pride is treaded
and it does not hurt anyone.
There, where beautiful eyes grey
are buried in the clay.
But, I want to go there,
through the empty streets
I will walk
Singing, praying and begging.
Please stop killing each other
And please come back home.
Please come back home my child,
because without you
a mother’s heart has already died.
And you need to know
That it is better to die
In your house
holding a lovely hand
than to die on foreign land
dying for days, months and years
alone with so many tears.
Syria cries and begs,
come back, my children
without you there is no sense.


(For Palestine)

Nobody helps us,
nobody understands
nobody does feel the pain
nobody has the rain
every day
in their hearts.
Nobody lost the sun
in such artistic way to live,
surrounded by a fance
like sheep in a field
where the people lost their pride,
above them, hangs always black cloud.
Nobody, nobody has so much strength
in the burying of their daughters and sons.
Nobody has so much patience and hope to win,
Against evil as Palestine people.


Women pregnant with pain
buried with the naked truth,
at the man`s cross crucified,
her children loved her heels,
she showed them the way
with bloody fear,
she followed them everywhere.
Little breast suckled them
through the dreams
she guided them,
she was fearless for them.
Woman pregnant with pain
Buried with the truth
at father`s cross crucified
in her mouth disappeared word
as in a wood
her words died
they were never
Her bruised sky
cries for her and faithfully
loved the woman on the cross.
Woman pregnant with the truth
Is forever buried
under the man`s foot.


ELVIRA KUJOVIC was born in Novi Pazar –Serbien She is mother of three children and lives in Germany. She started to write 2013 and has issued two books of poems. The first book was published in Berlin in 2016 and bears the name (Ein Gedicht schreit auf aus meiner Brust) The second book was published in Belgrade -Serbien and bears the name (Love and fear)

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