Academic journal article Transnational Literature

The Cry of Pain of a Lass from Atlas Mountains

Academic journal article Transnational Literature

The Cry of Pain of a Lass from Atlas Mountains

Article excerpt

My thin hands are trembling

due to the extreme cold;

my little legs are shivering

due to the freezing cold;

my innocent eyes are shedding

tearful blood

due to the violent cold;

I am a 'dead' living lass

for three years . . .

I dream of living

as the children of the world; but

a deadly cold is penetrating

my pink soul,

challenging some old tattered clothes,

perching violently on my chest,

leaving a deep scar on my cheek;

I am trying to get up

from a black, icy bed!!!

I am a living child,

'dead' for three years;

sleep no longer descends on

my drooping eyelid

due to the biting cold;

everyday

my little eyes shed

tears to be burned

by the freezing cold

to finally become

ice and frost,

engulfing my innocent dreams,

digging a deep, sad grave

empty of toys, gifts

of the Children's Day;

I am a living lass,

'dead' for three years;

I heard moans

of children like me,

those of Palestine,

Syria and Central African Republic;

moans of cold, hunger, shelling, death . …

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