Translated…

Each and Every Time that One or Two

Kites Started Off from the Horizons

My Heart Takes Flight, as if

Someone is, Having a Conversation with the Spirits

As if, This City is Not at War

The Wind, the Clouds, as Well as the Birds, All Held Down on Their Weapons and Ammunitions

As if, They’re All, Fast Asleep

But, it Doesn’t Go Like This Every Single Day

Every Now and Then, You’ll Hear that Cries from the Alarms

That will, Turn ALL the Auditory Nerves Upside Down and Inside Out

That was, the Ambulance, Passing by

Reminding me, that There are, So Many More Who are Among

The Less Fortunate

As I’d Made Way for the Ambulances to Pass, Parked by the Streets

I’d, Said a Silent Prayer for the Person Inside the Ambulance

Hoped, that the Doctors, the Nurses Who Waited for His Arrival to be

Gentle and Kind, and the Prayers of the Loved Ones are

Taken Note of, and Heard, by the Holy Spirits

Who, Never Flew a Kite as a Child

Who, Can be Absolutely Certain, that

The One Lying Inside the Ambulances isn’t Someone Else

But Oneself, One Day, Needing Others, to Make Way

So, from this, you can see, how fragile life really is, and, there’s that parallel between the kites and the ambulances, the kites are flying free and high up in the skies, so leisurely, and, contrasting to that would be the ambulances here, on the ground, with the sirens so loud, rushing the patients to the hospitals, there’s this, sharp contrast that the poet is making here.

not my photo…