Suffused in a crimson flood amidst pale, still faces,
I danced amongst a relentless zephyr.
A presto of odourless vapours in symphony with the wind,
Composed of silent roars began to settle me in.
Whispering hymns that left life lingering, I led my own requiem.
Softly inhaled cloud motifs, rhythmic in numbers,
Sheltered my lungs and swallowed me whole.
I waltzed in crystal clear flames before the final curtain call.
Lyrics that spun melodies of a trembling ballad,
Deafened cries of a village petrified,
As spring welcomed songs of genocide.
Translated by M. Bakr