At Midnight
S
Sayeed Abubakar
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At midnight I go to bed:
Seep doesn't come.
In the air I hear the cry
Of the oppressed.
Someones cry under bombardment,
Someones in hunger;
Alas! What can I do for them?
And what can I give?
My pen says, 'Pick me up
And compose such a poem
That the oppressors can get
A true lesson.'
My sword says, 'Seize me,
Let the war commence.
To live, you have to die
And to kill some beasts.'
I pick up the pen into one hand
And the sword into another;
My blood starts dancing,
I can neither eat now nor sleep.
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