And the world,
Thanks to those democrats,
Is rocking like a cradle
Bombs the size of potatoes in the cradle
Or potatoes the size of bombs.
Bahtiyar Hidayet
Bahtiyar Hidayet, born in 1974 in the Gazakh region of the Republic of Azerbaijan, graduated from university in 1995 and has been working as a history teacher since 1998. Wrote poetry since high school and has 4 poetry books published in Azerbaijan.
Bombs the Size of Potatoes in a Cradle
Potato field,
In the middle, a single tree, in its shade the farm owner and his family
Are resting, eating and drinking
In the scorching heat of the day, nearly 20 women are working
Here is the tree of corruption,
Here is the shadow economy
It is not possible to cut down that tree either,
The water brought by the women stays cool in its shade
America is the cradle of potatoes
It is also considered the cradle of democracy
But in these lands
Potatoes are considered the second bread
For the sake of the “first bread,” these women
Work like slaves in the field of the “second bread”
There is no other choice
Or they have to engage in the world’s oldest profession
Here is the shadow of that democracy
Keeping the water cool for 20 enslaved women
And the messengers of that democracy
Had long ago come to these lands like Colorado beetles
We have been spraying pesticides for 50 years, but they cannot be eradicated
Now the women collect them with their own hands
Because the field was sprayed with pesticides beforehand
The women, with masks over their mouths,
Look so much like the hungry, silenced slaves of the past.
And the world,
Thanks to those democrats,
Is rocking like a cradle
Bombs the size of potatoes in the cradle
Or potatoes the size of bombs.
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