LAND OF POETS
My homeland,
Blessed with beauty,
On crest-topped peaks
Breathes poetry into the skies.
Three thousand years ago,
My ancestors,
On clay tablets,
Wrote poetry…
It’s said the Babylonians
Learned from my forebears.
When the tablets were lost,
They wrote their names in the skies
And grew their stature
With the heights of the mountains…
The letters transformed into trees,
The trees into traps
For the wicked enemy…