Poetry from Wahab Al-Sharif

Older Arabic Middle Eastern man with thinning brown hair, a slight mustache, brown eyes, and a dark green or black collared shirt with pockets. He's resting his head on his hand.
Wahab Al-Sharif

I am Wahab 

My reading teacher used to call me 
"Little Lamb" My mother called me "Feather" 
She'd confine me to the room during storms 
So, I wouldn't fly like last time 
Upon returning from school 
My friends would call me a "Rocket" 
I'd swallow the streets like an aspirin pill, 
Leaving no one ahead of me 
Now I am still Wahab Rolling 
Like a cylinder on rugged ground 
Next to a wall leaning toward collapse. 

By Wahab Shereef Translated by Faleeha Hassan …….. ‏Wahab Al-Sharif ‏is an Iraqi poet, born in Najaf in 1961. He is a member of the Union of Authors and Writers in Iraq. He holds a bachelor’s degree in journalism and media from the University of Baghdad. ‏He has published 22 poetry collections.
 



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