נפתלי פרימור, שירתי

A 12th century mosque
Disintegrated to ashes
Nothing but debris
A street vendor sells cigarettes
One by one
No more clients left
He plays the violin
Last moment's tuning
Pain intertwines with jazz and rubble
Damascus souk-shock style
War horrors are now routine
Gospel of hatred, killing and death
After, vitality will spring out of the destruction
Districts cleaned
New apartments will attract the 'Just Married'
But the newly married hate each other
Innocence executed
No love for life left
"It's not our business it's among the Arabs factions
Aleppo is far away
It makes no difference, Honey
Don't forget to bring organic whole fresh milk"
But I'm already in Aleppo.