Himbakusa,
Tell me about Hiroshima.
But your lips are burnt,
they can't speak.
Take me to the place of horror.
but your hands are cut off,
I could not be led.
Kiss me so I can see the unspeakable pain of your soul.
But your eyes are dead from the terrible lava.
Wrinkles deeply furrow your face,
indelibly etching the human consciousness.
Himbakusa,
Take my lips to cry,
to lament, to protest.
And let your cry resound throughout the world.
And let your cry become a cry of peace.
Take my hands and lead the world
in the place of suffering,
pilgrimage and tama:
All the Adama peoples
in the battle of peace.
Take my own eyes to count
the countless dead.
take my tears
endless rain to be made,
the weapons of death to scatter,
to soothe the wounds
of the living-dead.
Himbakusa,
you are not the human fossil
of the horrors of Sodom.
You are history, bloody
marked by human hatred.
You are the universal SYMBOL-ACCESSOR
against the abusers of life.
You are the universal CRY - CRY
for PEACE and BROTHERHOOD!
This poem won a Special Commendation at the 27th Panhellenic Poetry Competition for Peace, from the Delphic Amphictyonia, in Delphi, 9/1987/XNUMX
Note. This poem would have won the 3st Prize, as the then President of the Jury, the late Dimitris Siatopoulos, said, but I had won the XNUMXst Prize the previous year and, according to the Regulations, XNUMX years had passed before someone could win again the price}
photo https://www.lifo.gr/culture/arxaiologia/79-hronia-apo-tin-katastrofi-tis-hirosima
