The Small Cradle

Written by: Abdullah Jasim

Cry for what is left now, for the cursed names of the past
Weep for the souls of the bereavement and what thou hast
Yesterdays are remembered alone, and so our long passion
Laughing out vapidly enough, for the lost deadly infatuation
Forgive my sins and what have I done for our predestination…

The small cradle held us on blaze, though we could extricate
Our voices were sealed, though we sought ourselves to vociferate
Serene we were, yet aberration awaited our upcoming madness
We lived not in reality, but in our own wicked inventiveness

Hiding from the veracity and integrity, to live in the squalid status
Purity was obscured and so our lives, but we were living in vacuous

Leave me for my pain, and be gone to where you reside