Hiroshima by Nazim Hikmet

July 19, 2008

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 wind.

I need no fruit, I need no rice. I need no sweet, nor even bread. I ask for nothing for myself. For I am dead, for I am dead.

All that I ask is that for peace. You fight today, you fight today. So that the children of this world. May live and grow and laugh and play.

Nazim Hikmet

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