Gustave Loiseau / French Printer ( 1865- 1935).
- Monday 3 August 2020
When I was writing a poem for you
My tears stopped me.
Poets wrote about songs and birds
That fell into your eyes
And in my soul.
If you sleep in a mess
I Sometimes fight my tears and my fears
I Sometimes push despair into strong winds
I Sometimes can or can't
So I write this poem for you to survive.
My dreams in Palestine
Is longer than all hopes.
He flows among poverty and tears.
As a spring among rocks.
He still strong as sunshine in the morning.
He always pushes the death
Outside my small life,
And carries my poems
As a rose in bird's beak
All over the world.