February 2009
I Come and Stand at Every Door, by Nazim Hikmet
I come and stand at every door But no one hears my silent tread I knock and yet remain unseen For I am dead, for I am dead. I’m only seven although I died In Hiroshima long ago I’m seven now as I was then When children die they do not grow. My hair was scorched by swirling flame My eyes grew dim, my eyes grew blind Death came and turned my bones to dust And that was scattered by the...
