Ali AlzaeemPoemsSyria

The Green City

Ali Alzaeem

Idlib, Syria

 

A round before eternity

The green city
With the branches of olive trees
Showed me the way to love and the first house
Where I heard my first song
Hoping I was hearing my last one

First round

The new-born poems
The first cherry tree that I loved
The last sun that I bade farewell
Until sunrise
We’ll meet again on the east bank

Second round

The struggle of the past with the present
The eyes of my mother
And the hands of my father
Are marked by age

Third round

My head is full of blood and bullets
All the window panes are shattered

Fourth round

My relative tries to kill me
Even if he has to stab a million times
Even if he needs 300,000 bombs
He prepares 26 nooses
And does not give up

Fifth round

My other relative,
A revolutionary who makes no compromises
A prisoner who resists
Even when dead, he fights on

Sixth round

The waves and the longing
embrace my body
The salt residues cover my face
Here are no words and no home
Here is a single piece of wood
That carries my dreams

Seventh round

The pigeons starve here
And are lost on the bridge
Like me
The lost one
The girl, buried beneath the ground
Still smiles

Last round

A new morning
The victims’ voices accompany me
On the east bank I await the sun
It does not come
I become sad
And kill myself

A round after eternity

The green city departs for paradise
To visit me
After our stupid war

 

Ali Alzaeem (19)

comes from a village in Idlib. He had a pleasant childhood as a shepherd, schoolboy and footballer. In summer 2015 he came to Germany. He likes to act and write poetry. He is extremely interested in politics and economics, which make him both annoyed and addicted. He attends the Elinor Ostrom School.