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History of the Spirit

 By Rezauddin Stalin

Published : Saturday, 10 April, 2021 at 12:00 AM  Count : 2208
(Translated by Tuwa Noor)

History of the Spirit

History of the Spirit


Floyd is lying down beside the precious street
and next to identity card marked with enormous numbers
People are wandering in the computation of the numbers around
There are concrete hills upon the heart of the creatures
The Constitution is written with the citations of annihilation
The state is greedy for heaven and handed in the truth to evil.

Even after absolute surrender, they cut his acquired breath into two pieces
Floyd is searching for a fountain in the hard relationship
The bull is coming out from Picasso's Goernica
Floyd's chest is covering with the foam of rage
In the extent of suffering over the world-- the reports all are false
Floyd sees the moon standing in rubble
The fonts of Westland are fleeing from the American library in fear

The corpses complain to the creator of emptiness
Jesus' non-violence act is burned by the tongue
Twenty-first Centuries and the black people of Harlem
The harmony of the coils of hostility
Thousands of stories of losing breathe in one's own soil

History of the Spirit

History of the Spirit

The cross is stuck in the anus of the church, the place for Prayer of self-purification
The plan of killing is transmitted in landscape
The death is a situation like bullfight
The graveyard is swamped with the modesty of black people
Gushing blood can be heard through unfaded and silent nose
Floyd George
Not the horrors of the Civil War
The lonely question breaks down in his land

Protest is so contagious
Every city in the world is affected by pandemic
The shoulder like a valley is filled with placards and festoons

George Floyd
The whip is whistling on his back
Shoe nails are shooting in his throat
Where is the palm-pulse of the river vein?
The stars of the eyes are vanished in the womb
In childhood
In juvenile
In youth

In a fraction of time
The statue of lion is trodden
There are thrilled boats on the river of vein are drowning in whirlpool
Floyd will become the King of Harlem
He is walking alone

The sentry's shadow sucks the lips of the afternoon
Floyd body is stuck at the crossroad of Minneapolis
Mary's breast are distorted by the stab of penis of the herd of wolf
The White House is breathing over and over again

George Floyd
Are they martyrs whose names on notice board?
This is the midday, fires on the tail of homosexuals
The gender is for awakening for the dawn and night sleep
Now the god of the wind is going back leaving behind the ancient guillotine in the earth, wiping eyes on the stone tissue

There are heaps of complains, exhibiting the mature teeth high
The eagle spreading wings under the palate
The breath box is dipping in the stomach of termites
God will be late
Floyd, let start your journey
Heaven is a long way

There are bubbles of boot in the blood-soaked drain in the sky
There is neigh of blue horse
The solitude is coming down in the street Minnesota
The all May 25 of the world is lying on the tongue of the pavement

The exhausted ground is lying down after the last respire
The airborne poetry is arising out of the ear of silence
The household is river intoxicated with opium
Never will rise
Birds will not cry for fear of crossfire
The wind will be standstill on the water-horse
The official press note will mention that the child died by serious suffocation

The are so many restless thorns
Joys are in the ragged lungs
The wind is fleeing
The questions are guarded
In the grasp of white there is the terrified tongue
All the rain and umbrellas are lost in nowhere

Cruel kiss of heavy shoes on the streets
And the electric power is gradually accumulating in the spine
Floyd will return to the land of the moon
Where the history of the spirit survives without air

(Rezauddin Stalin is a well-known poet)



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