A Train Crosses the Desert

The Nuclear Explosion opens a bold poetic series that brings together selected voices from the three major poetry movements shaping the world today: the World Poetry Movement, the Beijing Postmodernism Poetry Movement, and the Great Poetry Movement. Conceived as a space of convergence rather than confrontation, this series presents poetry as a dynamic force capable of capturing the shocks, hopes, and transformations of contemporary humanity. By placing these movements side by side, the publication affirms that despite differences in language, aesthetics, and cultural roots, world poetry shares a common urgency: to respond to the moral, existential, and imaginative challenges of our time through the power of the word. Prepared for THE SILK ROAD TODAY BY CAO SHUI

ASHRAF ABOUL-YAZID，Egyptian Poet, novelist and Journalist who worked in cultural fields for more than 35 years in Egypt, Oman, Kuwait, Saudi Arabia and Korea. He is the World Poetry Movement (WPM) Continental Coordinator, President, Asia Journalist Association (AJA), 2016-2024, and Secretly General of the Congress of African Journalists (CAJ). He worked as the Secretary General for Al Arabi Cultural annual forums in Kuwait, 2002 -2016.He is the translator of 8 books in art, children literature, poetry and science.And the author of more than 40 books of poetry, novels, biographies, criticism, and children literature. He is Member of the Egyptian Writers Union, Egypt. He has won Sawiris Award for Children Literature, Egypt; Gold Medal, Eurasian Literary Festival, Istanbul; the Arab Journalism Award in Culture, UAE; Manhae Grand Prize in Literature, Korea; Person of the Year in Culture, Kazan, Tatarstan, Russia.

A Train Crosses the Desert

By Ashraf Aboul Yazid

These countries look like a train,

That pull the air-conditioned coffins as a long tail.

They look like a lady,

With a dusty breast burnt by the sun,

With a body painted by dried gardens.

A train that cries between every two stations,

Where pavements are made

Of mirage and illusion.

In its stomach we struggle,

Fighting our defeats,

To beautify our fake organs.

The dragons of estrangement

Are urinating in our bags,

On what was left from our frightened bodies.

We are insulting those countries,

And spitting in one thousand and one towels.

But, We are not leaving the train,

Even if we were able to stop it.