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lina S Feb 2014
لأجلك يا مدينة الصلاة أصلي
لأجلك يا بهية المساكن يا زهرة المدائن
يا قدس يا قدس يا مدينة الصلاة
عيوننا إليك ترحل كل يوم
تدور في أروقة المعابد
تعانق الكنائس القديمة
و تمسح الحزن عن المساجد
يا ليلة الأسراء يا درب من مروا إلى السماء
عيوننا إليك ترحل كل يوم و انني أصلي

الطفل في المغارة و أمه مريم وجهان يبكيان
لأجل من تشردوا
لأجل أطفال بلا منازل
لأجل من دافع و أستشهد في المداخل
و أستشهد السلام في وطن السلام
سقط الحق على المداخل
حين هوت مدينة القدس
تراجع الحب و في قلوب الدنيا أستوطنت الحرب
الطفل في المغارة و أمه مريم وجهان يبكيان و أنني أصلي

الغضب الساطع آتٍ و أنا كلي ايمان
الغضب الساطع آتٍ سأمر على الأحزان
من كل طريق آتٍ بجياد الرهبة آتٍ
و كوجه الله الغامر آتٍ آتٍ آتٍ
لن يقفل باب مدينتنا فأنا ذاهبة لأصلي
سأدق على الأبواب و سأفتحها الأبواب
و ستغسل يا نهر الأردن وجهي بمياه قدسية
و ستمحو يا نهر الأردن أثار القدم الهمجية
الغضب الساطع آتٍ بجياد الرهبة آتٍ
و سيهزم وجه القوة
البيت لنا و القدس لنا
و بأيدينا سنعيد بهاء القدس
بايدينا للقدس سلام آتٍ


It is for you O city of the prayer that I pray
It is for you O splendid home, O flower of the cities
O Jerusalem O Jerusalem O Jerusalem O city of the prayer
Our eyes are set out to you everyday
They walk through the porticos of the temples
Embrace of the old churches
And take the sadness away from the mosques
O night of Al asra O path of those who left for the sky
Our eyes are set out to you everyday and I pray

The child is in the cave and his mother is Myriam two faces crying
For those who roamed
For the children without a house
For those who resisted and were martyred at the gates
And the peace was martyred in the homeland of the peace
And the law tumbled at the gates of the city
When Jerusalem city fell
Love left and in the heart of the world the war was settled
The child is in the cave and his mother is Myriam two faces crying
and I pray

The glaring anger is arriving and I am sure of it
The bright anger is arriving, I will command the grief
From everywhere, it will arrive riding the steeds of fear,
As if the overwhelming face of God it will arrive
The gates of our city will not be locked anymore so I am going to pray
I will knock the gates and I will liberate them
My face will be cleaned by the holy water of the Jordan river
And the effects of the barbarism of the past will be erased O Jordan River
The glaring anger is arriving riding the steeds of the fear
And will defeat whom is in power
This is our home and Jerusalem belongs to us
And in our hands we will celebrate the splendor of Jerusalem
by our hands the peace will return to Jerusalem
If you haven't listened to fairuz you haven't lived ..
Peace will return to Jerusalem. .
Alvian Eleven Dec 2024
Tengah malam di pinggiran kota Surabaya.
Aku duduk sendiri di teras kafe tua.
Kupandangi jalanan yang lengang.
Sambil kuhisap pelan pelan rokokku.
Dan kuteguk kopiku yang tak lagi panas.

Tapi pikiranku tidak berada di sini.
Pikiranku masih berada jauh di Gaza.
Dimana kekacauan panjang tak kunjung berakhir.
Hingga aku lelah melihatnya setiap hari.
Seperti pertunjukan horor harian tanpa akhir.

Kusambungkan ponselku dengan wifi.
Lalu kulihat layar ponselku yang kusam.
Dan kubuka akun sosial media orang orang Gaza.
Ahmed , Omar , Eman , Mariam , Abdallah , Mohammed dan lainnya.
Seperti biasa mereka selalu memposting.
I'm still alive... I'm still alive... I'm still alive...

Tapi ada akun Facebook yang telah lama membisu.
Akun ini tidak lagi memposting apapun selama berbulan bulan.
Tentu saja aku sangat mengkhawatirkannya.
Dan aku menerka nerka apa yang terjadi padanya.
Apakah dia masih hidup atau sudah mati ?!?...

Akun ini milik seorang gadis bernama Nour.
Dia mengungsi dari Al Rimal kota Gaza.
Aku mengenal dia sejak akhir tahun kemarin.
Lalu kami merasa saling dekat satu sama lain.
Terhubung pikiran dan perasaan.
Antara Gaza dan Surabaya.

Aku ingat setiap hari aku selalu memberinya kata kata penyemangat.
Agar dia sanggup melalui hari demi hari yang kacau , berat , melelahkan dan berbahaya.
Nour selalu menceritakan apapun yang dia alami.
Penderitaannya... ketakutannya... kegetirannya... kecemasannya... kelelahannya... kesedihannya....
Aku juga merasakannya.

Ada kalanya situasi tenang sesaat.
Cukup tenang bagi Nour untuk mengenang kehidupannya.
Dia mengunggah foto rumahnya , lingkungannya , kampusnya dan juga sudut sudut indah kota Gaza.
Saat semuanya masih ada sebelum 07 October.

Bagi Nour nostalgia adalah penghiburan sesaat.
Pelipur lara di tengah penderitaan panjang.
Aku selalu terlarut nostalgia apapun yang dia ceritakan padaku.
Bersama teman temannya dia suka nongkrong di kafe tepi pantai.
Menyusuri keramaian jalan Al Rashid lalu makan jagung dan es krim di tepi jalan.
Atau menghabiskan uang untuk belanja baju di Watan mall dan Capital mall.

Membaca buku adalah hobi utama Nour.
Dia sering membeli buku di toko Samir Mansour.
Lalu dia membaca buku buku itu di kamarnya.
Berdinding pink , meja yang tertata rapi.
Dan sebuah teddy bear besar di atas kasur.

Memasak adalah hobi Nour yang lain.
Setiap hari dia memasak apapun di tungku tanah liat depan tendanya.
Falafel , mulukhiya , shakshuka , maqluba.
Tampak begitu lezat hingga membuatku penasaran.
Seumur hidup aku tidak pernah memakan hidangan Arab.

Nour juga suka mendengarkan musik.
Dia menyuruhku mendengarkan lagu lagu Fairuz.
Penyanyi diva legendaris dari Lebanon yang dia idolakan.
Aku terpesona mendengarkan suara lembut Fairuz.
Menyanyikan lagu lagu Arab yang liriknya tak kumengerti.

Nour punya kucing berbulu putih tebal.
Kucing gemuk dan lucu yang bernama Kimba.
Setiap hari Kimba selalu dimanjakan Nour.
Tapi terkadang Nour mengeluh karena Kimba makan terlalu banyak.
Sementara makanan kucing susah dicari dan harganya naik tinggi.
Tragisnya , setelah lebaran Kimba menghilang berhari hari lalu ditemukan tewas tertembak quadcopter.
Kematian Kimba membuat Nour sangat depresi.

Nour kuliah di Universitas Islamic Gaza.
Kampusnya telah hancur dan kuliahnya terhenti pada semester lima.
Tapi dia selalu bangga pernah menjadi muridnya Refaat.
Mewarisi ajarannya untuk melawan dengan tulisan.
Menulis apapun tentang Palestina dan kehidupan apa adanya di Gaza.
Dimana jiwa jiwa yang punya kehidupan tidak cuma dianggap sebagai angka.

Aku takut jika pada akhirnya Nour hanya menjadi angka.
Angka statistik para martir yang terus bertambah setiap hari.
Sementara dunia tidak mampu melakukan apapun selain hanya melihat pembantaian tanpa akhir.
Merampas kehidupan secara paksa dan menyakitkan.

Tak ada yang tidak menyakitkan di Gaza.
Tapi bagiku lebih menyakitkan tidak ada kabar apapun dari Nour.
Aku merasakan kehampaan kehilangan dia.
Aku merindukan percakapan dengan dia.
Yang bisa kulakukan sekarang hanyalah memandangi foto wajahnya yang cantik.
Aku sungguh mengagumi kecantikannya.
Tatapan matanya yang berkilau , senyuman bibirnya yang mempesona.
Sepertinya aku telah jatuh cinta padanya.

Where are you now ?... Where are you nour ?...
Selama berbulan bulan aku selalu bertanya seperti itu pada Nour.
Tapi hingga sekarang tak ada jawaban sama sekali dari Nour.
Jika seandainya dia memberiku kabar singkat saat ini.
Aku benar benar akan merasa sangat lega.

Don't leave me !.. please don't leave me alone !..
Nour selalu memohon seperti itu padaku.
Dia ingin aku selalu ada untuknya.
Tapi sekarang dia tidak ada untukku.
Dia telah meninggalkan aku tanpa kata.

Ketika kupandangi langit malam untuk sesaat.
Aku bertanya tanya tentang takdir Nour.
Apakah dia telah menjadi satu diantara bintang bintang di langit ?!
Ini tidak adil , aku mengenal Nour terlalu singkat pada waktu yang buruk ini.
Aku hanya ingin dia tetap berada di bumi , berada di kota Gaza yang dia cintai.
Aku sangat ingin menemuinya pada waktu yang baik seperti yang kami harapkan , waktu ketika tanah Palestina telah terbebaskan.


November 2024

By Alvian Eleven
Alvian Eleven Dec 2024
It's midnight on the outskirts of Surabaya.
I'm sitting alone on the terrace of an old cafe.
While looking at the empty street.
Slowly smoking my cigarette and sipping my coffee which is no longer hot.

But my mind is not here.
My mind is still far away in Gaza.
Where there is long chaos that still not over for more than a year.
Until I'm tired of seeing it every day like an endless daily horror show.

Now my phone is connected to WiFi.
Then I open the social media accounts of people from Gaza.
Ahmed , Omar , Eman , Abdallah , Mariam , Mohammed and others.
As usual they always post.
I'm Still Alive... I'm Still Alive... I'm Still Alive...

But there is a Facebook account that has been silent for a long time.
This account has not posted anything for months.
Of course I am very worried and I always wonder what happened to her.
is she still alive or dead ?!

This account belongs to a girl named Nour.
She fled from her home in Al Rimal , Gaza City.
I have known her since the end of last year.
Then we felt close to each other.
Connected thought and feeling.
Between Gaza and Surabaya.

I remember that usually every day I always gave her words of encouragement.
So that she could get through the chaotic , heavy , tiring and dangerous days.
Nour always told me whatever she was experiencing.
Her fears... her suffering... her bitterness... her anxiety... her sadness... her exhaustion...
I feel it all too.

Sometimes the situation was calm for a moment.
Calm enough for Nour to reflect on her past life.
She uploaded photos of her house , her neighborhood , her campus and the beautiful corners of Gaza City.
When everything was still there before October 7.

For Nour nostalgia was a momentary consolation.
Her solace in the midst of long suffering.
I was always lost in her nostalgia no matter what she told me.
With her friends she often hung out at beachside cafes.
Walked along the busy streets of Al Rashed then ate corn and drank coffee on the corniche.
Or spent money shopping for clothes at Watan mall and Capital mall.

Reading novels was Nour's main hobby.
She often bought novels at Samir Mansour's bookstore.
Then she read the books in her comfort room.
Pink walls , a neatly arranged table and a big teddy bear on the bed.

Cooking was another of Nour's hobbies.
Usually every day she cooked anything on the stove in front of her tent.
Falafel , mulukhiya , shaksuka , maqluba, Everything looked so delicious that it made me curious.
In my life I have never eaten Arabic foods.

Nour also had a hobby of listening to music.
She told me to listen to Fairuz's songs.
A legendary diva singer from Lebanon who she idolized.
I was fascinated by listening Fairuz's soft voice singing an Arabic songs whose lyrics I didn't understand.

Nour used to have a cat with thick white fur.
A fat and cute cat named Kimba.
Every day Kimba was always pampered by Nour.
But sometimes Nour complained because Kimba ate too much.
While the price of cat food went up high.
Tragically , after Eid Kimba went missing for days and then found dead after being shot by a quadcopter.
Kimba's death made Nour so depressed.

Nour studied at the Islamic University of Gaza.
The campus had been destroyed and her studies stopped in the fifth semester.
But she was always proud to have been Refaat's student.
Inheriting his teachings to fight with writing.
writing anything about Palestine and life in Gaza.
Where souls have life not just considered as numbers.

I'm afraid that in the end Nour will just become a number.
A statistical number of martyrs that continues to increase every day.
While the world is unable to do anything but just watch endless massacres.
Taking lives forcefully and painfully.

Nothing is not painful in Gaza.
But for me it hurts more not to have any news from Nour.
I feel the emptiness of losing her.
I miss conversations with her.
But now there's nothing I can do but just look at her photos.
Admiring her beautiful face , her sparkling eyes and her charming smiling lips.
It seems like I've fallen in love with her.

Where are you now ?.... where are you Nour ?...
For months I have always asked Nour like that.
But until now there has been no answer at all from Nour.
If only she gave me any news for a moment.
I would feel very relieved.

Don't leave me !.. please don't leave me alone !..
Nour usually always begged me like that.
She wanted me to always be there for her.
But now she's not there for me.
She has left me without a word.

When I'm looking at the night sky for a moment.
I wonder about Nour's fate.
Has Nour become one of the stars in the sky ?!...
This isn't fair , I've known Nour for too short at this bad time.
I just want Nour to stay on earth , stay in the city of Gaza that she loved.
I really wanted to meet her at the good time we hoped for , the time when the land of Palestine has been liberated.


December 2024

By Alvian Eleven
Alvian Eleven Dec 2024
Sebelum 07 Oktober adalah normal lama.
Orang orang Gaza masih punya kehidupan.
Kehidupan yang telah menjadi masa lalu.
Masa lalu yang hanya bisa dikenang.

Hassan selalu senang tiap jumat siang.
Setelah shalat jumat dia bisa makan enak bersama keluarganya.
Lalu bersantai di tepi pantai hingga sore.
Itulah normal lama Hassan.

Tiap hari Asmaa bersemangat mengajar.
Pelajaran bahasa Arab untuk sekolah dasar.
Murid muridnya selalu berisik di dalam kelas.
Itulah normal lama Asmaa.

Samara selalu merayakan ulang tahun anaknya.
Dia membuat kue **** dan memasang hiasan lucu.
Boneka besar menjadi hadiah untuk anaknya.
Itulah normal lama Samara.

Tiap sore Mai selalu menyetir mobilnya.
Pelan pelan melewati jalan Al Rashid yang ramai.
Sambil melihat lihat suasana tepi pantai.
Itulah normal lama Mai.

Mustafa sibuk bekerja siang malam.
Mengumpulkan uang untuk membayar dowri.
Agar dia bisa secepatnya mengawini gadis pujaannya.
Itulah normal lama Mustafa.

Fadi selalu begadang tiap malam.
Saat listrik menyala dia sibuk melakukan banyak hal.
Mengecas laptop , mengetik makalah , mencuci baju dan lainnya.
Itulah normal lama Fadi.

Tiap hari Mariam selalu sibuk.
Pagi hingga sore dia berada di kantor.
Bekerja mengurusi periklanan dan digital marketing.
Itulah normal lama Mariam.

Heba selalu senang belanja di pasar.
Dia membeli daging , sayuran , buah buahan dan bumbu masakan.
Saat tiba di rumah dia langsung bersemangat memasak.
Itulah normal lama Heba.

Saat pagi Yousef sering pergi ke dermaga.
Dia melihat laut sambil menghirup udara segar.
Lalu membeli banyak ikan yang baru ditangkap nelayan.
Itulah normal lama Yousef.

Mohammed bertubuh kekar.
Tiap sore dia rutin pergi ke gym atau latihan tinju.
Terus berolahraga menjaga kebugaran tubuh.
Itulah normal lama Mohammed.

Lulus kuliah Abdullah masih menganggur.
Dia sering berhutang apapun di toko tetangganya.
Saat ditagih seperti biasa dia selalu menghilang.
Itulah normal lama Abdullah.

Keluarga Ali punya kebun olive.
Tiap musim panen dia selalu senang memetik olive.
Sambil makan manakeesh dan zaatar bersama keluarganya.
Itulah normal lama Ali.

Tiap malam Tareq sibuk belajar.
Dia ingin mendapat nilai tinggi saat ujian tawjihi.
Agar keluarganya merasa bangga padanya.
Itulah normal lama Tareq.

Ayahnya Omar bekerja di bengkel.
Dia sering memasang tabung gas untuk mobil.
Sopir sopir taksi tidak perlu membeli bensin.
Itulah normal lama ayahnya Omar.

Tiap menerima gaji Khaled merasa senang.
Dia selalu mengajak keluarganya makan enak.
Menyantap berbagai hidangan sea food di restoran Abu Hasira.
Itulah normal lama Khaled.

Wajah Eman selalu tampak cantik.
Dia rutin pergi ke salon melakukan perawatan.
Produk produk kecantikan juga dia beli semua.
Itulah normal lama Eman.

Ketika musim dingin Aya selalu senang.
Dia menghabiskan waktu membaca koleksi novelnya.
Sambil makan burger dan mereguk hangatnya sahlab.
Itulah normal lama Aya.

Tiap hari Walid selalu keliling Elsaraya.
Dia menyopir taksi mencari cari penumpang.
Sementara anak anak jalanan menjual tissue dan biskuit.
Itulah normal lama Walid.

Saat ada orang menikah Nassar selalu diundang.
Dia menjadi fotografer untuk memotret pengantin.
Pernikahan meriah di hotel dan resort tepi pantai.
Itulah normal lama Nassar.

Saat ramadhan toko Fatema selalu ramai.
Orang orang datang membeli berbagai kue buatannya.
Kaak , qatayef , baklava , kunafa dan lainnya.
Itulah normal lama Fatema.

Ketika hujan deras malam hari.
Kakeknya Ashraf selalu mendengarkan radio.
Menunggu lagu lagu Fairuz diputar sambil menghisap hookah.
Itulah normal lama kakeknya Ashraf.

Saat pertandingan El Classico.
Khalil dan teman temannya selalu pergi ke kafe.
Nonton bersama sambil bersorak sorak.
Itulah normal lama Khalil.

Huda kuliah literatur Inggris di Universitas Al Azhar.
Dia senang menghabiskan waktu di kampus.
Nongkrong di kantin atau baca buku di perpustakaan.
Itulah normal lama Huda.

Ketika musim panas Kareem tidak betah di rumah.
Dia sering nongkrong bersama teman temannya di tepi pantai.
Sambil makan jagung , kacang dan minum barrad.
Itulah normal lama Kareem.

Generator di rumah Shayma sering mati.
Biasanya dia keluar membawa laptop nongkrong di kafe.
Mereguk hangatnya mocca sambil mengunduh film dan anime.
Itulah normal lama Shayma.

Ayahnya Lubna punya kebun buah buahan.
Stroberi , jeruk , lemon , semangka dan kurma.
Tiap hari kebun itu selalu diurus secara telaten.
Itulah normal lama ayahnya Lubna.

Malak sering ikut kegiatan.
Pemberdayaan dan kreatifitas anak muda.
Dia belajar coding dan konten multimedia.
Itulah normal lama Malak.

Setelah lulus kuliah Zaina sulit mendapat pekerjaan.
Dia membuka kios kecil yang menjual falalel.
Orang orang selalu datang membeli falafel buatannya.
Itulah normal lama Zaina.

Dima punya banyak koleksi novel.
Dia sering membeli berbagai novel di toko Samir Mansour.
Lalu dia membacanya sambil berbaring di kasur.
Itulah normal lama Dima.

Tiap pulang sekolah anak anaknya Hussein selalu senang.
Mereka dibelikan Playstation agar bisa bermain game.
Ada balapan , pertarungan dan petualangan.
Itulah normal lama anak anaknya Hussein.

Tiap hari Reem selalu enerjik.
Dia menjadi instruktur fitness dan aerobik.
Tak mengherankan kalau tubuhnya tampak langsing dan kencang.
Itulah normal lama Reem.

Masa akhir kuliah Amal sibuk belajar.
Dia ingin segera lulus dengan nilai yang bagus.
Mendapat beasiswa kuliah ke Eropa adalah impiannya.
Itulah normal lama Amal.

Menjadi ahli bedah adalah pekerjaan Dr Ghassan.
Selama puluhan tahun dia menjadi dokter di rumah sakit Al Quds.
Walaupun gajinya tak seberapa tapi dia selalu semangat bekerja.
Itulah normal lama Dr Ghassan.

Ahmed dan keluarganya baru saja pindah ke apartemen.
Apartemen berfasilitas lengkap yang dibangun di tepi pantai.
Kehidupan terasa nyaman tanpa mengalami masalah apapun.
Itulah normal lama Ahmed.

Setelah lulus kuliah medis Aboud langsung bekerja di rumah sakit Al Shifa.
Dia senang bekerja dengan rekan rekannya yang penuh semangat.
Menyembuhkan orang orang dengan berbagai keluhan penyakit.
Itulah normal lama Aboud.

Kehidupan Mahmoud benar benar bahagia.
Dia tinggal di apartemen mewah bersama keluarganya.
Berbagai bisnis yang dia punya terus menerus untung besar.
Itulah normal lama Mahmoud.

Tiap hari Sham senang menghabiskan waktu di rumah.
Berkumpul bersama keluarganya menikmati kebersamaan yang menyenangkan.
Baginya keluarga adalah segalanya.
Itulah normal lama Sham.

Sondos kuliah hukum di Universitas Al Azhar.
Dia mempelajari hukum internasional dan hak asasi manusia.
Dia ingin Palestina yang terjajah mendapatkan keadilan.
Itulah normal lama Sondos.

Melukis adalah hobi Bayan dan Layan.
Mereka paling senang melukis langit seperti lukisan Van Gogh.
Bagi mereka langit menyimpan segala misteri yang tak diketahui manusia.
Itulah normal lama Bayan dan Layan.

Normal lama berakhir setelah 07 Oktober.
Orang orang Gaza tidak lagi punya kehidupan.
Hanya ada masa kini yang menyakitkan.
Dan masa depan yang terancam.


November 2024

By Alvian Eleven
Jesse 1d
O People,
I have become your Sultan,
Break your idols after your misguidance,
And worship me...
I do not reveal myself always,
So sit upon the pavement of patience
Until you can behold me.

Leave your children without bread,
Abandon your women without husbands,
And follow me…
Praise God for His grace,
For He has sent me to write history,
And history cannot be written without me.

I am Joseph in beauty,
No golden hair like mine has God ever created,
No prophetic forehead like mine,
My eyes...
A forest of olive and almond trees,
So pray always that God may protect my eyes.

O People,
I am Majnun Layla,
So send me your wives to bear my seed,
And send your husbands to give me thanks.
It is an honor to eat the wheat of my flesh,
An honor to pluck my almonds and figs,
An honor to resemble me…
For I am an event unseen
For thousands of years.

O People,
I am the first, the most just, the most beautiful,
Among all rulers.
I am the full moon of darkness, the whiteness of jasmine,
I am the first inventor of the gallows,
And the best of the messengers.

Whenever I think of leaving power,
My conscience forbids me…
Who, then, shall rule after me these kind souls?
Who shall heal the lame, the leprous, the blind after me?
Who shall bring life to the bones of the dead?
Who shall draw the moonlight from his cloak?
Who shall send down the rain upon the people?

Who, tell me,
Will flog them ninety lashes?
Who, tell me,
Will crucify them upon the trees?
Who, tell me,
Will force them to live like cattle?
And die like cattle?

Whenever I think of leaving them,
My tears flow like a cloud,
And I put my trust in God…
And decide to ride upon the people
From now until the Day of Judgment.

O People,
I own you
Just as I own my horses and my slaves.
I walk upon you
As I walk upon the carpet of my palace.
So bow to me when I rise,
And bow to me when I sit.

Did I not find you one day
Between the pages of my ancestors?
Beware of reading any book,
For I read on your behalf.
Beware of writing any speech,
For I write on your behalf.
Beware of listening to Fairuz in secret,
For I know your intentions well.
Beware of reciting poetry before me,
For it is a cursed devil.
Beware of entering the grave without my permission,
For that is a great sin among us.

And keep silent when I speak,
For my words are a sacred Quran…

O People,
I am your Mahdi, so await me!
And my blood pulses in the heart of the vines,
So drink me.

Stop all the hymns that children sing
In love of the homeland,
For I have become the homeland...
I am the One, the Eternal,
Among all creatures.

I am stored in the memory of apples,
The flute, and the blue melodies.
Raise my portraits above the squares,
Cover me with clouds of words,
And marry me the youngest of brides…
For I do not age.

My body does not age,
My prisons do not age,
And the instruments of oppression in my kingdom do not age.

O People,
I am Al-Hajjaj; if I remove my mask, you will know me.
And I am Genghis Khan,
I have come to you with my spears, my dogs, and my prisons.
Do not resent my tyranny,
For I **** so that you do not **** me.
I hang so that you do not hang me.
I bury you in mass graves,
So that you do not bury me.

O People,
Buy me newspapers to write about me,
For they are displayed in the streets like prostitutes.
Buy me green, polished paper like the grasses of spring,
Ink, and printing presses.
Everything in our time is for sale,
Even fingers.

Buy me the fruit of thought,
And place it before me.
Cook me a poet,
And serve him among my dishes.

I am illiterate,
And I have a phobia of what poets say.
So buy me poets who sing my beauty,
And make me the star of all covers,
For dancers and actors
Are never more beautiful than I am.

Buy me all that cannot be bought
On this earth or in the sky.
Buy me
A forest of honey,
And a pound of women.

For with hard currency,
I purchase what I desire.
I buy Bashar ibn Burd’s poetry,
Al-Mutanabbi’s lips,
And Labid’s odes…

For the millions in the House of Muslims’ Wealth
Are an ancient inheritance of my father,
So take from my gold
And write in the great books
That my era…
Is the era of Harun al-Rashid…

O Masses of my land,
O masses of Arab nations,
I am a pure soul sent to cleanse you
Of the dust of ignorance.
Record my voice on tapes…
For my voice flows like a green fountain,
Like Andalusian melodies.

Capture me, smiling like the Mona Lisa,
Gentle as the face of Magdalene.
Capture me,
With my dignity, my grandeur,
And my military staff.

Capture me
As I sever the people’s necks like apples,
Capture me
As I hunt a deer or a gazelle.
Capture me
As I tear poetry apart with my teeth,
As I drink the blood of the alphabet.
Capture me
As I carry you upon my shoulders to the eternal abode!

O Masses of my land,
O masses of Arab nations,

O People,
I am responsible for your dreams, when you dream,
I am responsible for every loaf you eat,
And for the poetry
You read behind my back.

For the security apparatus in my palace
Informs me of the birds’ whispers,
And the secrets of the ears of wheat,
And of what happens inside the wombs of pregnant women.

O People,
I am your jailer, and I am your prisoner,
So forgive me.

I am the exiled one, within my own palace,
I see no sun, no stars, no flowers of oleander,
Since I came to power as a child,
And the circus men gather around me—
One blows a flute,
One beats a drum,
One polishes my boots,
One kisses my hands…

Since I came to power as a child,
No advisor has ever told me "No,"
No minister has ever dared to say "No,"
No ambassador has ever stood against me.

They have taught me to see myself as a god,
And to see the people, from my balcony, as dust.

So forgive me…
If I have turned into a new Hulagu,
I have never killed for the sake of killing,
I **** only to entertain myself.
"This poem explores the themes of power, tyranny, and the complex relationship between rulers and the ruled. It is a symbolic cry against oppression, depicting the voice of unheard nations. Its meaning is left open to the reader’s interpretation."

— The End —