THE BIG WORD

When the poem utters the big word
all the weapons will hush at once
the word that's the voice of
the spilled blood and the cry of suffering
the word that's uttered by the chorus of the dead
and by the exiled crowd of history.

It will be whispered by the flower
the weeping cloud in the sky 
the rapturous waves of the sea
and the childred who do not want
to join the army.

That day, a new love will emerge
from the foams of the sea
that is distinct in nationality.

War will die of shame
as the silence starts taking revenge from history
and the magic words
will kiss the wind of love.

IF being disloyal to the half
will bring me the whole native land
your nationalism will be a cuckold's egg
I shall betray you
even with your bloody armies after me
I shall make love with all the enemies
I shall betray you
on all the continents of this earth.

When the poem utters the big word
all the deals and negotiations
will come to an end with nothing left to say
all the mediators will be unemployed.

The history will surrender
under that big word which carries
the stars and the rivers
the endless love making of all times
the sounds, the rain, and the seas.

When the big word
will be uttered by the poem
either all the poets will be executed
or peace will descend on earth.


by NE$E YA$IN