(painting: Pablo picasso)

When Arab adolescence strikes football

In the fenced ground of the Corniche Park

A Sudanese guy who sits on the nearby stone bench

Feels the thrill on his legs

For the one who knows to strike a goal

The biggest hunger is to strike the ball

And me? I don't' have a name

When the fisherman swims away

Loosing his boat and net in the flood

And faces a group of huge sharks

He gets a chill on his spine

When one of the cutest babies

Among the nursery kids cries loudly

Milk oozes from the nun's breast

The swimmer

Crawls on a camel

In the desert

I don't want anything else

Only the ball and opponents

Let thousands or millions come

Let the goal post be miles away

I don't want anything else

Once, on the tenth floor

While carrying the cement bag

One moment, just for a moment,

The sun tempted like a big ball

While surging ahead with the ball

In the sky ground

The blow came unexpected

Its mark is still on the back

There are balls, which can be tackled by anybody

No, not all the movements forward

End up in goals

And there are no games without fouls

Even in dreams

In the ground in front now

No Arab children are left

Only ball, ball, ball

It moves on its own

This side and that side

Runs out of the ground

Surges to the goal post

Sometimes hides somewhere

In pure solitude

And very secretly

The ball looks at me and smiles

A throb of the destiny

On the fingers of the legs

When the ground became

Empty of balls and legs

Two legs began to dance

Between the evening and night

Translation:: Ismail Meladi