Once, we were spring—
a green branch,
hand in hand with the sun…
and now
we are autumn,
fallen,
silent,
in the alleys of oblivion.
We were young,
full of dreams,
and in the tempest of adversity
we broke…
just as
they broke
the newly blossomed flowers of our homeland,
and with the rope of darkness,
confined them to cages.
In the endless night,
we died…
no hand,
no name,
no voice,
no gaze.
The desire to arrive deceived us…
we set out
with hearts full of dreams,
but
each time,
they cut our breath short halfway…
and we never arrived,
and we never will.
The grave
is a home
where one can sleep
without fear—
for me,
for you,
for us.
Wishes remain in our hearts,
endless,
and here,
our sleeping voice
has sunk
into an eternal silence…
Fahim Arezou
May 14
May 14, 2026 at 5:31 AM UTC
Once, we were spring—
a green branch,
hand in hand with the sun…
and now
we are autumn,
fallen,
silent,
in the alleys of oblivion.
We were young,
full of dreams,
and in the tempest of adversity
we broke…
just as
they broke
the newly blossomed flowers of our homeland,
and with the rope of darkness,
confined them to cages.
In the endless night,
we died…
no hand,
no name,
no voice,
no gaze.
The desire to arrive deceived us…
we set out
with hearts full of dreams,
but
each time,
they cut our breath short halfway…
and we never arrived,
and we never will.
The grave
is a home
where one can sleep
without fear—
for me,
for you,
for us.
Wishes remain in our hearts,
endless,
and here,
our sleeping voice
has sunk
into an eternal silence…
Fahim Arezou