The Men

I was sitting still, and watching them,

The movements of the crying men,

Their queer antics, their weird game,

And flying came the bright paint,

Of a lively gathering, for joy meant,

They hugged, they smiled, let happiness reign,

But ah, its hurts, once again,

The bullet in my waist, brimming with pain,

Back to reality, blood creeps in shame,

They still embrace, but their daggers sent

Through each other, and the red torrent

Gushes and searches who to blame

Another day, a gathering, but in motherland's name,

Today, the bodies lie still in vain