A story entitled -Nay, tis not I, O President!-

Omar Ghassa Rashed
gostudyomar@gmail.com

2024 / 5 / 28

A story entitled "Nay, tis not I, O President!"

Behold, a tale of woe and strife,
Where a child, Gouri, doth reside,
With a father, whose deeds have caused such strife,
The American might, he hath defied.

This man, accused of nuclear might s demise,
The former President, in vain, did try,
To uncover his identity, a futile prize,
As Gouri s father, he could not identify.

In Gaza s war, their home was torn asunder,
Yet, fortune smiled, they were not within,
Visiting the grave of Gouri s mother, a somber wonder,
Whose life was claimed, by the war s cruel din.

Now, Gouri and her father, homeless they roam,
All they once held, now turned to ash,
The enemy s planes, with American bombs, did come,
Burning the camp, their father could not dash.

At the seventh hour, of yesterday s eve,
They found refuge, in Gouri s aunt s abode,
A single room, where forty souls did weave,
A meager shelter, on this weary road.

A breaking news, the American spies proclaim,
Unable to uncover Gouri s father s name,
They spread their threat, a bounty to claim,
For he who hides this man, of nuclear shame.

And still, a voice echoes, from the father s tent,
Declaring, "Nay, tis not I, O President!"

(Written on 28-5-2024)
A translation of my story written in Arabic.







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