Waari meyside War ha kaa haro
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Oh! My Dear Somalia!.
The sun rise,
and the mysterious long night,
gradually fades,
the chirping of hungry birds,
fills the atmosphere,
hoping to venture into the fields, where nothing grows but twigs,
in the morning,
when mothers start pounding,
the only maize that is remaining,
a child cries while clinging,
onto its mother’s tattered clothes, empty in the stomach,
having eaten nothing,
since the night before last,
teenagers all over,
carry guns and heavy artilleries,
bazookas booming, grenades grinding the soiled earth,
soiled with human blood, The earth
clean and clear,
like the head of an old man,
that has seen many tales to tell, except
for the quickly decomposing carcases,
animal bones human bones