Beneath the bleeding raging waters
Snarling and sniffing for the fleshes
Of the ill-sacrificed victims
Drifting in ‘patriotic’ futility
That is nay the harvest of beasts
As crocodiles’ halves tile the mires
Feasting in the bleeding waters
Of sleepless sleeping souls
Then the day dies loudly
At each dying breath of the fishes
Wriggling higgledy-piggledy in death
While tears fall like pregnant rains
Yet, bulged beasts would submerge
With spoils of blood and bones
To the ensconced nests of their brood
Whereas the days burn in bliss
As thus the worst has come to it
Let the blood erupts from the womb
Of these turbulent waters
Till the least fish lives
In a bloodless water of peace
« return.