Mehdi Ghadyanloo, Shoreditch
The warm wind blows gently
and the corn poppies dance in mute witness
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man
As another generation is butchered and damned
Hungarian police say they have arrested four people over the
discovery of the bodies of 71 migrants, thought to be Syrian, in a lorry in
Austria.
The victims included 59 men, eight women and four children
who are thought to have been dead for about two days.
The decomposing bodies were discovered by Austrian police on
Thursday morning in the abandoned lorry, near the Hungarian border.
Officials said the victims probably died after suffocating
in the vehicle.
The people are thought to have been dead when the vehicle
crossed into Austria from Hungary.
Among the victims was a girl aged between
one and two years old.
from BBC news
. . . the winds came, gently,
several heads became one
n the
summertime,
though august people sneered;
we were at peace, and we cheered
We walked alone, sometimes hand in
hand, between the thin lines marking sea and sand;
smiling very peacefully, we
began to notice that we could be free,
and we moved together to the West.
West
is where all days will someday end;
where the colours turn from grey to gold,
and you can be with friends
and light flakes the golden clouds above all;
West
is Mike and Susie,
West is where I love.
There we shall spend our final days of our lives;
tell the same old
stories:
yeah well, at least we tried.
Into
the West, smiles on our faces, we'll go;
oh, yes,
and our apologies to those who'll
never really know the way.
We're refugees,
walking away from the life that
we've known and loved;
nothing to do or say,
nowhere to stay;
now we are alone.
We're refugees,
carrying all we own in brown bags, tied up with string;
nothing
to think,
it doesn't mean a thing,
but we'll be happy on our own.
West is Mike
and Susie;
West is where I love,
West is refugees' home.
Refugees, Peter Hammill, VDGG
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