To be a Refugee

Now I live,
in tent number 50 on the left
but it's too small for my future.
"Forget", they tell me.
But how can I forget ?
The night, when dreams stop
showing me my village,
when the wind stops
bringing me the perfume
of the fruit in my garden,
when it stops raining from the sky,
then I will be able to stop thinking
about my country.