Abdel-Aziz Haider 
This is the mind 
This is what make  you  a toy
His rusting swing...... and the roar of his iron  
And his tired springs
Does not take you one step further... Where  are the swings of your childhood and youth  from them? 
His extended thread to meters..... flying in the air... in the free space 
This is the mind..... 
That steam engine obsolete by the time 
Where are these dancing figures  from them? 
And melodies  changing  to colors… overlapping...... Jumping 
You yourself is transformed  to old  machine 
Except for  some oil of love.. and the remnants of the desire moving under your wrinkled  skin 
 Your springs may cease... and the activator of  sparkle inactivating  
2010 - Baghdad                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    