In the Name of Allah

An Elegy for Flight 655

My little brave canoe of love

is carrying my furious volcano of revenge

In a familiar stormy sea

and an unknown dark night.

The canoe is mourning and searching the Blood Vortex

In an endless beginning tide

and a crowded loneliness,

and the volcano is going to awake

The Damavand[1] and Fuji Yama’s[2] spirits at once together

to elegize and eternalize the saddest narration of love and life"s death

in memories of Hiroshima and Nagazaki[3]

and Iranian Flight[4] number 655

*

To find the depth of the massacre

let"s light our candles of hearts in the chest of history

by Putting ourselves instead of those innocent peace messengers.

Let"s imagine the bloody moments

And rebuild and review the massacre:

It was lunch time of Sunday July 3, 1988

The waitresses were serving the packed foods

And the mothers were feeding their dear ones

and speaking to each other happily.

The Iron bird was calmly flying at sky

On the usual path of civilian flights,

The space of journey was full of sweet fragrance of affections.

And everything was OK

Suddenly, the whole thing was ended

by missile of the damned Vincennes

And 290 torn bodies were dancing  

From the sky to the sea

And the Persian Gulf became their purplish grave.

They had no time to understand what happened

Even, the parents couldn"t hug their children,

Accordingly, "the Axis of Evils "said:

"I"m not an apologize-for-America kind of guy."

And foolishly regarded the massacre as closed,

But every free thinker regards it as an open issue forever

As the unforgettable memories of Hiroshima and nagazaki. 

Surely, we have power and right to avenge

But we never pay back evil by evil

We give peace flowers to US nation and all human beings,

This is our heavenly revenge.