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Translated into English in 1859 by Edward FitzGerald

I.
Awake! for Morning in the Bowl of Night
Has flung the Stone that puts the Stars to Flight:
And Lo! the Hunter of the East has caught
The Sultan's Turret in a Noose of Light.

II.
Dreaming when Dawn's Left Hand was in the Sky
I heard a voice within the Tavern cry,
"Awake, my Little ones, and fill the Cup
Before Life's Liquor in its Cup be dry."

III.
And, as the **** crew, those who stood before
The Tavern shouted -- "Open then the Door!
You know how little while we have to stay,
And, once departed, may return no more."

IV.
Now the New Year reviving old Desires,
The thoughtful Soul to Solitude retires,
Where the White Hand of Moses on the Bough
Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.

V.
Iram indeed is gone with all its Rose,
And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one Knows;
But still the Vine her ancient ruby yields,
And still a Garden by the Water blows.

VI.
And David's Lips are lock't; but in divine
High piping Pehlevi, with "Wine! Wine! Wine!
Red Wine!" -- the Nightingale cries to the Rose
That yellow Cheek of hers to incarnadine.

VII.
Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring
The Winter Garment of Repentance fling:
The Bird of Time has but a little way
To fly -- and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.

VIII.
Whether at Naishapur or Babylon,
Whether the Cup with sweet or bitter run,
The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop,
The Leaves of Life kep falling one by one.

IX.
Morning a thousand Roses brings, you say;
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?
And this first Summer month that brings the Rose
Shall take Jamshyd and Kaikobad away.

X.
But come with old Khayyam, and leave the Lot
Of Kaikobad and Kaikhosru forgot:
Let Rustum lay about him as he will,
Or Hatim Tai cry Supper -- heed them not.

XI.
With me along the strip of Herbage strown
That just divides the desert from the sown,
Where name of Slave and Sultan is forgot --
And Peace is Mahmud on his Golden Throne!

XII.
A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread, -- and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness --
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

XIII.
Some for the Glories of This World; and some
Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come;
Ah, take the Cash, and let the Promise go,
Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!

XIV.
Were it not Folly, Spider-like to spin
The Thread of present Life away to win --
What? for ourselves, who know not if we shall
Breathe out the very Breath we now breathe in!

XV.
Look to the Rose that blows about us -- "Lo,
Laughing," she says, "into the World I blow:
At once the silken Tassel of my Purse
Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw."

XVI.
The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon
Turns Ashes -- or it prospers; and anon,
Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face
Lighting a little Hour or two -- is gone.

XVII.
And those who husbanded the Golden Grain,
And those who flung it to the Winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.

XVIII.
Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai
Whose Doorways are alternate Night and Day,
How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp
Abode his Hour or two and went his way.

XIX.
They say the Lion and the Lizard keep
The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep:
And Bahram, that great Hunter -- the Wild ***
Stamps o'er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep.

**.
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head.

XXI.
And this delightful Herb whose tender Green
Fledges the River's Lip on which we lean --
Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows
From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!

XXII.
Ah, my Beloved, fill the Cup that clears
To-day of past Regrets and future Fears --
To-morrow? -- Why, To-morrow I may be
Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years.

XXIII.
Lo! some we loved, the loveliest and best
That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept silently to Rest.

XXIV.
And we, that now make merry in the Room
They left, and Summer dresses in new Bloom,
Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth
Descend, ourselves to make a Couch -- for whom?

XXV.
Ah, make the most of what we may yet spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust, to lie;
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and -- sans End!

XXVI.
Alike for those who for To-day prepare,
And those that after some To-morrow stare,
A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries
"Fools! Your Reward is neither Here nor There!"

XXVII.
Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd
Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are ******
Like foolish Prophets forth; their Works to Scorn
Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.

XXVIII.
Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise
To talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies;
One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies;
The Flower that once has blown forever dies.

XXIX.
Myself when young did eagerly frequent
Doctor and Saint, and heard great Argument
About it and about; but evermore
Came out by the same Door as in I went.

***.
With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow,
And with my own hand labour'd it to grow:
And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd --
"I came like Water and like Wind I go."

XXXI.
Into this Universe, and Why not knowing,
Nor Whence, like Water *****-nilly flowing:
And out of it, as Wind along the Waste,
I know not Whither, *****-nilly blowing.

XXXII.
Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate
I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate,
And many Knots unravel'd by the Road;
But not the Master-Knot of Human Fate.

XXXIII.
There was the Door to which I found no Key:
There was the Veil through which I could not see:
Some little talk awhile of Me and Thee
There was -- and then no more of Thee and Me.

XXXIV.
Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried,
Asking, "What Lamp had Destiny to guide
Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?"
And -- "A blind Understanding!" Heav'n replied.

XXXV.
Then to the Lip of this poor earthen Urn
I lean'd, the secret Well of Life to learn:
And Lip to Lip it murmur'd -- "While you live,
Drink! -- for, once dead, you never shall return."

XXXVI.
I think the Vessel, that with fugitive
Articulation answer'd, once did live,
And merry-make, and the cold Lip I kiss'd,
How many Kisses might it take -- and give!

XXXVII.
For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day,
I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet Clay:
And with its all obliterated Tongue
It murmur'd -- "Gently, Brother, gently, pray!"

XXXVIII.
And has not such a Story from of Old
Down Man's successive generations roll'd
Of such a clod of saturated Earth
Cast by the Maker into Human mould?

XXXIX.
Ah, fill the Cup: -- what boots it to repeat
How Time is slipping underneath our Feet:
Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday,
Why fret about them if To-day be sweet!

XL.
A Moment's Halt -- a momentary taste
Of Being from the Well amid the Waste --
And Lo! the phantom Caravan has reach'd
The Nothing it set out from -- Oh, make haste!

XLI.
Oh, plagued no more with Human or Divine,
To-morrow's tangle to itself resign,
And lose your fingers in the tresses of
The Cypress-slender Minister of Wine.

XLII.
Waste not your Hour, nor in the vain pursuit
Of This and That endeavor and dispute;
Better be merry with the fruitful Grape
Than sadden after none, or bitter, fruit.

XLIII.
You know, my Friends, with what a brave Carouse
I made a Second Marriage in my house;
Divorced old barren Reason from my Bed,
And took the Daughter of the Vine to Spouse.

XLIV.
And lately, by the Tavern Door agape,
Came stealing through the Dusk an Angel Shape
Bearing a Vessel on his Shoulder; and
He bid me taste of it; and 'twas -- the Grape!

XLV.
The Grape that can with Logic absolute
The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute:
The subtle Alchemest that in a Trice
Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmute.

XLVI.
Why, be this Juice the growth of God, who dare
Blaspheme the twisted tendril as Snare?
A Blessing, we should use it, should we not?
And if a Curse -- why, then, Who set it there?

XLVII.
But leave the Wise to wrangle, and with me
The Quarrel of the Universe let be:
And, in some corner of the Hubbub couch'd,
Make Game of that which makes as much of Thee.

XLVIII.
For in and out, above, about, below,
'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show,
Play'd in a Box whose Candle is the Sun,
Round which we Phantom Figures come and go.

XLIX.
Strange, is it not? that of the myriads who
Before us pass'd the door of Darkness through
Not one returns to tell us of the Road,
Which to discover we must travel too.

L.
The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd
Who rose before us, and as Prophets burn'd,
Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep,
They told their fellows, and to Sleep return'd.

LI.
Why, if the Soul can fling the Dust aside,
And naked on the Air of Heaven ride,
Is't not a shame -- Is't not a shame for him
So long in this Clay suburb to abide?

LII.
But that is but a Tent wherein may rest
A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest;
The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrash
Strikes, and prepares it for another guest.

LIII.
I sent my Soul through the Invisible,
Some letter of that After-life to spell:
And after many days my Soul return'd
And said, "Behold, Myself am Heav'n and Hell."

LIV.
Heav'n but the Vision of fulfill'd Desire,
And Hell the Shadow of a Soul on fire,
Cast on the Darkness into which Ourselves,
So late emerg'd from, shall so soon expire.

LV.
While the Rose blows along the River Brink,
With old Khayyam and ruby vintage drink:
And when the Angel with his darker Draught
Draws up to Thee -- take that, and do not shrink.

LVI.
And fear not lest Existence closing your
Account, should lose, or know the type no more;
The Eternal Saki from the Bowl has pour'd
Millions of Bubbls like us, and will pour.

LVII.
When You and I behind the Veil are past,
Oh but the long long while the World shall last,
Which of our Coming and Departure heeds
As much as Ocean of a pebble-cast.

LVIII.
'Tis all a Chequer-board of Nights and Days
Where Destiny with Men for Pieces plays:
Hither and thither moves, and mates, and slays,
And one by one back in the Closet lays.

LIX.
The Ball no Question makes of Ayes and Noes,
But Right or Left, as strikes the Player goes;
And he that toss'd Thee down into the Field,
He knows about it all -- He knows -- HE knows!

LX.
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

LXI.
For let Philosopher and Doctor preach
Of what they will, and what they will not -- each
Is but one Link in an eternal Chain
That none can slip, nor break, nor over-reach.

LXII.
And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky,
Whereunder crawling coop't we live and die,
Lift not thy hands to it for help -- for It
Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.

LXIII.
With Earth's first Clay They did the Last Man knead,
And then of the Last Harvest sow'd the Seed:
Yea, the first Morning of Creation wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning shall read.

LXIV.
Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;
To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.

LXV.
I tell You this -- When, starting from the Goal,
Over the shoulders of the flaming Foal
Of Heav'n Parwin and Mushtari they flung,
In my predestin'd Plot of Dust and Soul.

LXVI.
The Vine has struck a fiber: which about
If clings my Being -- let the Dervish flout;
Of my Base metal may be filed a Key,
That shall unlock the Door he howls without.

LXVII.
And this I know: whether the one True Light,
Kindle to Love, or Wrath -- consume me quite,
One Glimpse of It within the Tavern caught
Better than in the Temple lost outright.

LXVIII.
What! out of senseless Nothing to provoke
A conscious Something to resent the yoke
Of unpermitted Pleasure, under pain
Of Everlasting Penalties, if broke!

LXIX.
What! from his helpless Creature be repaid
Pure Gold for what he lent us dross-allay'd --
Sue for a Debt we never did contract,
And cannot answer -- Oh the sorry trade!

LXX.
Nay, but for terror of his wrathful Face,
I swear I will not call Injustice Grace;
Not one Good Fellow of the Tavern but
Would kick so poor a Coward from the place.

LXXI.
Oh Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in,
Thou will not with Predestin'd Evil round
Enmesh me, and impute my Fall to Sin?

LXXII.
Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make,
And who with Eden didst devise the Snake;
For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man
Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give -- and take!

LXXIII.
Listen again. One Evening at the Close
Of Ramazan, ere the better Moon arose,
In that old Potter's Shop I stood alone
With the clay Population round in Rows.

LXXIV.
And, strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot
Some could articulate, while others not:
And suddenly one more impatient cried --
"Who is the Potter, pray, and who the ***?"

LXXV.
Then said another -- "Surely not in vain
My Substance from the common Earth was ta'en,
That He who subtly wrought me into Shape
Should stamp me back to common Earth again."

LXXVI.
Another said -- "Why, ne'er a peevish Boy,
Would break the Bowl from which he drank in Joy;
Shall He that made the vessel in pure Love
And Fancy, in an after Rage destroy?"

LXXVII.
None answer'd this; but after Silence spake
A Vessel of a more ungainly Make:
"They sneer at me for leaning all awry;
What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?"

LXXVIII:
"Why," said another, "Some there are who tell
Of one who threatens he will toss to Hell
The luckless Pots he marred in making -- Pish!
He's a Good Fellow, and 'twill all be well."

LXXIX.
Then said another with a long-drawn Sigh,
"My Clay with long oblivion is gone dry:
But, fill me with the old familiar Juice,
Methinks I might recover by-and-by!"

LXXX.
So while the Vessels one by one were speaking,
The Little Moon look'd in that all were seeking:
And then they jogg'd each other, "Brother! Brother!
Now for the Porter's shoulder-knot a-creaking!"

LXXXI.
Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide,
And wash my Body whence the Life has died,
And in a Windingsheet of Vine-leaf wrapt,
So bury me by some sweet Garden-side.

LXXXII.
That ev'n my buried Ashes such a Snare
Of Perfume shall fling up into the Air,
As not a True Believer passing by
But shall be overtaken unaware.

LXXXIII.
Indeed the Idols I have loved so long
Have done my Credit in Men's Eye much wrong:
Have drown'd my Honour in a shallow Cup,
And sold my Reputation for a Song.

LXXXIV.
Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before
I swore -- but was I sober when I swore?
And then, and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand
My thread-bare Penitence apieces tore.

LXXXV.
And much as Wine has play'd the Infidel,
And robb'd me of my Robe of Honor -- well,
I often wonder what the Vintners buy
One half so precious as the Goods they sell.

LXXXVI.
Alas, that Spring should vanish with the Rose!
That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close!
The Nightingale that in the Branches sang,
Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!

LXXXVII.
Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield
One glimpse -- If dimly, yet indeed, reveal'd
To which the fainting Traveller might spring,
As springs the trampled herbage of the field!

LXXXVIII.
Ah Love! could thou and I with Fate conspire
To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire,
Would not we shatter it to bits -- and then
Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!

LXXXIX.
Ah, Moon of my Delight who know'st no wane,
The Moon of Heav'n is rising once again:
How oft hereafter rising shall she look
Through this same Garden after me -- in vain!

XC.
And when like her, oh Saki, you shall pass
Among the Guests star-scatter'd on the Grass,
And in your joyous errand reach the spot
Where I made one -- turn down an empty Glass!
FIRST DAY

1.
Who wanted me
to go to Chicago
on January 6th?
I did!

The night before,
20 below zero
Fahrenheit
with the wind chill;
as the blizzard of 99
lay in mountains
of blackening snow.

I packed two coats,
two suits,
three sweaters,
multiple sets of long johns
and heavy white socks
for a two-day stay.

I left from Newark.
**** the denseness,
it confounds!

The 2nd City to whom?
2nd ain’t bad.
It’s pretty good.
If you consider
Peking and Prague,
Tokyo and Togo,
Manchester and Moscow,
Port Au Prince and Paris,
Athens and Amsterdam,
Buenos Aries and Johannesburg;
that’s pretty good.

What’s going on here today?
It’s friggin frozen.
To the bone!

But Chi Town is still cool.
Buddy Guy’s is open.
Bartenders mixing drinks,
cabbies jamming on their breaks,
honey dew waitresses serving sugar,
buildings swerving,
fire tongued preachers are preaching
and the farmers are measuring the moon.

The lake,
unlike Ontario
is in the midst of freezing.
Bones of ice
threaten to gel
into a solid mass
over the expanse
of the Michigan Lake.
If this keeps up,
you can walk
clear to Toronto
on a silver carpet.

Along the shore
the ice is permanent.
It’s the first big frost
of winter
after a long
Indian Summer.

Thank God
I caught a cab.
Outside I hear
The Hawk
nippin hard.
It’ll get your ear,
finger or toe.
Bite you on the nose too
if you ain’t careful.

Thank God,
I’m not walking
the Wabash tonight;
but if you do cover up,
wear layers.

Chicago,
could this be
Sandburg’s City?

I’m overwhelmed
and this is my tenth time here.

It’s almost better,
sometimes it is better,
a lot of times it is better
and denser then New York.

Ask any Bull’s fan.
I’m a Knickerbocker.
Yes Nueva York,
a city that has placed last
in the standings
for many years.
Except the last two.
Yanks are # 1!

But Chicago
is a dynasty,
as big as
Sammy Sosa’s heart,
rich and wide
as Michael Jordan’s grin.

Middle of a country,
center of a continent,
smack dab in the mean
of a hemisphere,
vortex to a world,
Chicago!

Kansas City,
Nashville,
St. Louis,
Detroit,
Cleveland,
Pittsburgh,
Denver,
New Orleans,
Dallas,
Cairo,
Singapore,
Auckland,
Baghdad,
Mexico City
and Montreal
salute her.



2.
Cities,
A collection of vanities?
Engineered complex utilitarianism?
The need for community a social necessity?
Ego one with the mass?
Civilization’s latest *******?
Chicago is more then that.

Jefferson’s yeoman farmer
is long gone
but this capitol
of the Great Plains
is still democratic.

The citizen’s of this city
would vote daily,
if they could.

Chicago,
Sandburg’s Chicago,
Could it be?

The namesake river
segments the city,
canals of commerce,
all perpendicular,
is rife throughout,
still guiding barges
to the Mississippi
and St. Laurence.

Now also
tourist attractions
for a cafe society.

Chicago is really jazzy,
swanky clubs,
big steaks,
juices and drinks.

You get the best
coffee from Seattle
and the finest teas
from China.

Great restaurants
serve liquid jazz
al la carte.

Jazz Jazz Jazz
All they serve is Jazz
Rock me steady
Keep the beat
Keep it flowin
Feel the heat!

Jazz Jazz Jazz
All they is, is Jazz
Fast cars will take ya
To the show
Round bout midnight
Where’d the time go?

Flows into the Mississippi,
the mother of America’s rivers,
an empires aorta.

Great Lakes wonder of water.
Niagara Falls
still her heart gushes forth.

Buffalo connected to this holy heart.
Finger Lakes and Adirondacks
are part of this watershed,
all the way down to the
Delaware and Chesapeake.

Sandburg’s Chicago?
Oh my my,
the wonder of him.
Who captured the imagination
of the wonders of rivers.

Down stream other holy cities
from the Mississippi delta
all mapped by him.

Its mouth our Dixie Trumpet
guarded by righteous Cajun brethren.

Midwest?
Midwest from where?
It’s north of Caracas and Los Angeles,
east of Fairbanks,
west of Dublin
and south of not much.

Him,
who spoke of honest men
and loving women.
Working men and mothers
bearing citizens to build a nation.
The New World’s
precocious adolescent
caught in a stream
of endless and exciting change,
much pain and sacrifice,
dedication and loss,
pride and tribulations.

From him we know
all the people’s faces.
All their stories are told.
Never defeating the
idea of Chicago.

Sandburg had the courage to say
what was in the heart of the people, who:

Defeated the Indians,
Mapped the terrain,
Aided slavers,
Fought a terrible civil war,
Hoisted the barges,
Grew the food,
Whacked the wheat,
Sang the songs,
Fought many wars of conquest,
Cleared the land,
Erected the bridges,
Trapped the game,
Netted the fish,
Mined the coal,
Forged the steel,
Laid the tracks,
Fired the tenders,
Cut the stone,
Mixed the mortar,
Plumbed the line,
And laid the bricks
Of this nation of cities!

Pardon the Marlboro Man shtick.
It’s a poor expostulation of
crass commercial symbolism.

Like I said, I’m a
Devil Fan from Jersey
and Madison Avenue
has done its work on me.

It’s a strange alchemy
that changes
a proud Nation of Blackhawks
into a merchandising bonanza
of hometown hockey shirts,
making the native seem alien,
and the interloper at home chillin out,
warming his feet atop a block of ice,
guzzling Old Style
with clicker in hand.

Give him his beer
and other diversions.
If he bowls with his buddy’s
on Tuesday night
I hope he bowls
a perfect game.

He’s earned it.
He works hard.
Hard work and faith
built this city.

And it’s not just the faith
that fills the cities
thousand churches,
temples and
mosques on the Sabbath.

3.
There is faith in everything in Chicago!

An alcoholic broker named Bill
lives the Twelve Steps
to banish fear and loathing
for one more day.
Bill believes in sobriety.

A tug captain named Moe
waits for the spring thaw
so he can get the barges up to Duluth.
Moe believes in the seasons.

A farmer named Tom
hopes he has reaped the last
of many bitter harvests.
Tom believes in a new start.

A homeless man named Earl
wills himself a cot and a hot
at the local shelter.
Earl believes in deliverance.

A Pullman porter
named George
works overtime
to get his first born
through medical school.
George believes in opportunity.

A folk singer named Woody
sings about his
countrymen inheritance
and implores them to take it.
Woody believes in people.

A Wobbly named Joe
organizes fellow steelworkers
to fight for a workers paradise
here on earth.
Joe believes in ideals.

A bookkeeper named Edith
is certain she’ll see the Cubs
win the World Series
in her lifetime.
Edith believes in miracles.

An electrician named ****
saves money
to bring his family over from Gdansk.
**** believes in America.

A banker named Leah
knows Ditka will return
and lead the Bears
to another Super Bowl.
Leah believes in nostalgia.

A cantor named Samuel
prays for another 20 years
so he can properly train
his Temple’s replacement.

Samuel believes in tradition.
A high school girl named Sally
refuses to get an abortion.
She knows she carries
something special within her.
Sally believes in life.

A city worker named Mazie
ceaselessly prays
for her incarcerated son
doing 10 years at Cook.
Mazie believes in redemption.

A jazzer named Bix
helps to invent a new art form
out of the mist.
Bix believes in creativity.

An architect named Frank
restores the Rookery.
Frank believes in space.

A soldier named Ike
fights wars for democracy.
Ike believes in peace.

A Rabbi named Jesse
sermonizes on Moses.
Jesse believes in liberation.

Somewhere in Chicago
a kid still believes in Shoeless Joe.
The kid believes in
the integrity of the game.

An Imam named Louis
is busy building a nation
within a nation.
Louis believes in
self-determination.

A teacher named Heidi
gives all she has to her students.
She has great expectations for them all.
Heidi believes in the future.

4.
Does Chicago have a future?

This city,
full of cowboys
and wildcatters
is predicated
on a future!

Bang, bang
Shoot em up
Stake the claim
It’s your terrain
Drill the hole
Strike it rich
Top it off
You’re the boss
Take a chance
Watch it wane
Try again
Heavenly gains

Chicago
city of futures
is a Holy Mecca
to all day traders.

Their skin is gray,
hair disheveled,
loud ties and
funny coats,
thumb through
slips of paper
held by nail
chewed hands.
Selling promises
with no derivative value
for out of the money calls
and in the money puts.
Strike is not a labor action
in this city of unionists,
but a speculators mark,
a capitalist wish,
a hedgers bet,
a public debt
and a farmers
fair return.

Indexes for everything.
Quantitative models
that could burst a kazoo.

You know the measure
of everything in Chicago.
But is it truly objective?
Have mathematics banished
subjective intentions,
routing it in fair practice
of market efficiencies,
a kind of scientific absolution?

I heard that there
is a dispute brewing
over the amount of snowfall
that fell on the 1st.

The mayor’s office,
using the official city ruler
measured 22”
of snow on the ground.

The National Weather Service
says it cannot detect more
then 17” of snow.

The mayor thinks
he’ll catch less heat
for the trains that don’t run
the buses that don’t arrive
and the schools that stand empty
with the addition of 5”.

The analysts say
it’s all about capturing liquidity.

Liquidity,
can you place a great lake
into an eyedropper?

Its 20 below
and all liquid things
are solid masses
or a gooey viscosity at best.

Water is frozen everywhere.
But Chi town is still liquid,
flowing faster
then the digital blips
flashing on the walls
of the CBOT.

Dreams
are never frozen in Chicago.
The exchanges trade
without missing a beat.

Trading wet dreams,
the crystallized vapor
of an IPO
pledging a billion points
of Internet access
or raiding the public treasuries
of a central bank’s
huge stores of gold
with currency swaps.

Using the tools
of butterfly spreads
and candlesticks
to achieve the goal.

Short the Russell
or buy the Dow,
go long the
CAC and DAX.
Are you trading in euro’s?
You better be
or soon will.
I know
you’re Chicago,
you’ll trade anything.
WEBS,
Spiders,
and Leaps
are traded here,
along with sweet crude,
North Sea Brent,
plywood and T-Bill futures;
and most importantly
the commodities,
the loam
that formed this city
of broad shoulders.

What about our wheat?
Still whacking and
breadbasket to the world.

Oil,
an important fossil fuel
denominated in
good ole greenbacks.

Porkbellies,
not just hogwash
on the Wabash,
but bacon, eggs
and flapjacks
are on the menu
of every diner in Jersey
as the “All American.”

Cotton,
our contribution
to the Golden Triangle,
once the global currency
used to enrich a
gentlemen class
of cultured
southern slavers,
now Tommy Hilfiger’s
preferred fabric.

I think he sends it
to Bangkok where
child slaves
spin it into
gold lame'.

Sorghum,
I think its hardy.

Soybeans,
the new age substitute
for hamburger
goes great with tofu lasagna.

Corn,
ADM creates ethanol,
they want us to drive cleaner cars.

Cattle,
once driven into this city’s
bloodhouses for slaughter,
now ground into
a billion Big Macs
every year.

When does a seed
become a commodity?
When does a commodity
become a future?
When does a future expire?

You can find the answers
to these questions in Chicago
and find a fortune in a hole in the floor.

Look down into the pits.
Hear the screams of anguish
and profitable delights.

Frenzied men
swarming like a mass
of epileptic ants
atop the worlds largest sugar cube
auger the worlds free markets.

The scene is
more chaotic then
100 Haymarket Square Riots
multiplied by 100
1968 Democratic Conventions.

Amidst inverted anthills,
they scurry forth and to
in distinguished
black and red coats.

Fighting each other
as counterparties
to a life and death transaction.

This is an efficient market
that crosses the globe.

Oil from the Sultan of Brunei,
Yen from the land of Hitachi,
Long Bonds from the Fed,
nickel from Quebec,
platinum and palladium
from Siberia,
FTSE’s from London
and crewel cane from Havana
circle these pits.

Tijuana,
Shanghai
and Istanbul's
best traders
are only half as good
as the average trader in Chicago.

Chicago,
this hog butcher to the world,
specializes in packaging and distribution.

Men in blood soaked smocks,
still count the heads
entering the gates of the city.

Their handiwork
is sent out on barges
and rail lines as frozen packages
of futures
waiting for delivery
to an anonymous counterparty
half a world away.

This nation’s hub
has grown into the
premier purveyor
to the world;
along all the rivers,
highways,
railways
and estuaries
it’s tentacles reach.

5.
Sandburg’s Chicago,
is a city of the world’s people.

Many striver rows compose
its many neighborhoods.

Nordic stoicism,
Eastern European orthodoxy
and Afro-American
calypso vibrations
are three of many cords
strumming the strings
of Chicago.

Sandburg’s Chicago,
if you wrote forever
you would only scratch its surface.

People wait for trains
to enter the city from O’Hare.
Frozen tears
lock their eyes
onto distant skyscrapers,
solid chunks
of snot blocks their nose
and green icicles of slime
crust mustaches.
They fight to breathe.

Sandburg’s Chicago
is The Land of Lincoln,
Savior of the Union,
protector of the Republic.
Sent armies
of sons and daughters,
barges, boxcars,
gunboats, foodstuffs,
cannon and shot
to raze the south
and stamp out succession.

Old Abe’s biography
are still unknown volumes to me.
I must see and read the great words.
You can never learn enough;
but I’ve been to Washington
and seen the man’s memorial.
The Free World’s 8th wonder,
guarded by General Grant,
who still keeps an eye on Richmond
and a hand on his sword.

Through this American winter
Abe ponders.
The vista he surveys is dire and tragic.

Our sitting President
impeached
for lying about a *******.

Party partisans
in the senate are sworn and seated.
Our Chief Justice,
adorned with golden bars
will adjudicate the proceedings.
It is the perfect counterpoint
to an ageless Abe thinking
with malice toward none
and charity towards all,
will heal the wounds
of the nation.

Abe our granite angel,
Chicago goes on,
The Union is strong!


SECOND DAY

1.
Out my window
the sun has risen.

According to
the local forecast
its minus 9
going up to
6 today.

The lake,
a golden pillow of clouds
is frozen in time.

I marvel
at the ancients ones
resourcefulness
and how
they mastered
these extreme elements.

Past, present and future
has no meaning
in the Citadel
of the Prairie today.

I set my watch
to Central Standard Time.

Stepping into
the hotel lobby
the concierge
with oil smooth hair,
perfect tie
and English lilt
impeccably asks,
“Do you know where you are going Sir?
Can I give you a map?”

He hands me one of Chicago.
I see he recently had his nails done.
He paints a green line
along Whacker Drive and says,
“turn on Jackson, LaSalle, Wabash or Madison
and you’ll get to where you want to go.”
A walk of 14 or 15 blocks from Streeterville-
(I start at The Chicago White House.
They call it that because Hillary Rodham
stays here when she’s in town.
Its’ also alleged that Stedman
eats his breakfast here
but Opra
has never been seen
on the premises.
I wonder how I gained entry
into this place of elite’s?)
-down into the center of The Loop.

Stepping out of the hotel,
The Doorman
sporting the epaulets of a colonel
on his corporate winter coat
and furry Cossack hat
swaddling his round black face
accosts me.

The skin of his face
is flaking from
the subzero windburn.

He asks me
with a gapped toothy grin,
“Can I get you a cab?”
“No I think I’ll walk,” I answer.
“Good woolen hat,
thick gloves you should be alright.”
He winks and lets me pass.

I step outside.
The Windy City
flings stabbing cold spears
flying on wings of 30-mph gusts.
My outside hardens.
I can feel the freeze
deepen
into my internalness.
I can’t be sure
but inside
my heart still feels warm.
For how long
I cannot say.

I commence
my walk
among the spires
of this great city,
the vertical leaps
that anchor the great lake,
holding its place
against the historic
frigid assault.

The buildings’ sway,
modulating to the blows
of natures wicked blasts.

It’s a hard imposition
on a city and its people.

The gloves,
skullcap,
long underwear,
sweater,
jacket
and overcoat
not enough
to keep the cold
from penetrating
the person.

Like discerning
the layers of this city,
even many layers,
still not enough
to understand
the depth of meaning
of the heart
of this heartland city.

Sandburg knew the city well.
Set amidst groves of suburbs
that extend outward in every direction.
Concentric circles
surround the city.
After the burbs come farms,
Great Plains, and mountains.
Appalachians and Rockies
are but mere molehills
in the city’s back yard.
It’s terra firma
stops only at the sea.
Pt. Barrow to the Horn,
many capes extended.

On the periphery
its appendages,
its extremities,
its outward extremes.
All connected by the idea,
blown by the incessant wind
of this great nation.
The Windy City’s message
is sent to the world’s four corners.
It is a message of power.
English the worlds
common language
is spoken here,
along with Ebonics,
Espanol,
Mandarin,
Czech,
Russian,
Korean,
Arabic,
Hindi­,
German,
French,
electronics,
steel,
cars,
cartoons,
rap,
sports­,
movies,
capital,
wheat
and more.

Always more.
Much much more
in Chicago.

2.
Sandburg
spoke all the dialects.

He heard them all,
he understood
with great precision
to the finest tolerances
of a lathe workers micrometer.

Sandburg understood
what it meant to laugh
and be happy.

He understood
the working mans day,
the learned treatises
of university chairs,
the endless tomes
of the city’s
great libraries,
the lost languages
of the ancient ones,
the secret codes
of abstract art,
the impact of architecture,
the street dialects and idioms
of everymans expression of life.

All fighting for life,
trying to build a life,
a new life
in this modern world.

Walking across
the Michigan Avenue Bridge
I see the Wrigley Building
is neatly carved,
catty cornered on the plaza.

I wonder if Old Man Wrigley
watched his barges
loaded with spearmint
and double-mint
move out onto the lake
from one of those Gothic windows
perched high above the street.

Would he open a window
and shout to the men below
to quit slaking and work harder
or would he
between the snapping sound
he made with his mouth
full of his chewing gum
offer them tickets
to a ballgame at Wrigley Field
that afternoon?

Would the men below
be able to understand
the man communing
from such a great height?

I listen to a man
and woman conversing.
They are one step behind me
as we meander along Wacker Drive.

"You are in Chicago now.”
The man states with profundity.
“If I let you go
you will soon find your level
in this city.
Do you know what I mean?”

No I don’t.
I think to myself.
What level are you I wonder?
Are you perched atop
the transmission spire
of the Hancock Tower?

I wouldn’t think so
or your ears would melt
from the windburn.

I’m thinking.
Is she a kept woman?
She is majestically clothed
in fur hat and coat.
In animal pelts
not trapped like her,
but slaughtered
from farms
I’m sure.

What level
is he speaking of?

Many levels
are evident in this city;
many layers of cobbled stone,
Pennsylvania iron,
Hoosier Granite
and vertical drops.

I wonder
if I detect
condensation
in his voice?

What is
his intention?
Is it a warning
of a broken affair?
A pending pink slip?
Advise to an addict
refusing to adhere
to a recovery regimen?

What is his level anyway?
Is he so high and mighty,
Higher and mightier
then this great city
which we are all a part of,
which we all helped to build,
which we all need
in order to keep this nation
the thriving democratic
empire it is?

This seditious talk!

3.
The Loop’s El
still courses through
the main thoroughfares of the city.

People are transported
above the din of the street,
looking down
on the common pedestrians
like me.

Super CEO’s
populating the upper floors
of Romanesque,
Greek Revivalist,
New Bauhaus,
Art Deco
and Post Nouveau
Neo-Modern
Avant-Garde towers
are too far up
to see me
shivering on the street.

The cars, busses,
trains and trucks
are all covered
with the film
of rock salt.

Salt covers
my bootless feet
and smudges
my cloths as well.

The salt,
the primal element
of the earth
covers everything
in Chicago.

It is the true level
of this city.

The layer
beneath
all layers,
on which
everything
rests,
is built,
grows,
thrives
then dies.
To be
returned again
to the lower
layers
where it can
take root
again
and grow
out onto
the great plains.

Splashing
the nation,
anointing
its people
with its
blessing.

A blessing,
Chicago?

All rivers
come here.

All things
found its way here
through the canals
and back bays
of the world’s
greatest lakes.

All roads,
rails and
air routes
begin and
end here.

Mrs. O’Leary’s cow
got a *** rap.
It did not start the fire,
we did.

We lit the torch
that flamed
the city to cinders.
From a pile of ash
Chicago rose again.

Forever Chicago!
Forever the lamp
that burns bright
on a Great Lake’s
western shore!

Chicago
the beacon
sends the
message to the world
with its windy blasts,
on chugging barges,
clapping trains,
flying tandems,
T1 circuits
and roaring jets.

Sandburg knew
a Chicago
I will never know.

He knew
the rhythm of life
the people walked to.
The tools they used,
the dreams they dreamed
the songs they sang,
the things they built,
the things they loved,
the pains that hurt,
the motives that grew,
the actions that destroyed
the prayers they prayed,
the food they ate
their moments of death.

Sandburg knew
the layers of the city
to the depths
and windy heights
I cannot fathom.

The Blues
came to this city,
on the wing
of a chirping bird,
on the taps
of a rickety train,
on the blast
of an angry sax
rushing on the wind,
on the Westend blitz
of Pop's brash coronet,
on the tink of
a twinkling piano
on a paddle-wheel boat
and on the strings
of a lonely man’s guitar.

Walk into the clubs,
tenements,
row houses,
speakeasies
and you’ll hear the Blues
whispered like
a quiet prayer.

Tidewater Blues
from Virginia,
Delta Blues
from the lower
Mississippi,
Boogie Woogie
from Appalachia,
Texas Blues
from some Lone Star,
Big Band Blues
from Kansas City,
Blues from
Beal Street,
Jelly Roll’s Blues
from the Latin Quarter.

Hell even Chicago
got its own brand
of Blues.

Its all here.
It ended up here
and was sent away
on the winds of westerly blows
to the ear of an eager world
on strong jet streams
of simple melodies
and hard truths.

A broad
shouldered woman,
a single mother stands
on the street
with three crying babes.
Their cloths
are covered
in salt.
She pleads
for a break,
praying
for a new start.
Poor and
under-clothed
against the torrent
of frigid weather
she begs for help.
Her blond hair
and ****** features
suggests her
Scandinavian heritage.
I wonder if
she is related to Sandburg
as I walk past
her on the street.
Her feet
are bleeding
through her
canvass sneakers.
Her babes mouths
are zipped shut
with frozen drivel
and mucous.

The Blues live
on in Chicago.

The Blues
will forever live in her.
As I turn the corner
to walk the Miracle Mile
I see her engulfed
in a funnel cloud of salt,
snow and bits
of white paper,
swirling around her
and her children
in an angry
unforgiving
maelstrom.

The family
begins to
dissolve
like a snail
sprinkled with salt;
and a mother
and her children
just disappear
into the pavement
at the corner
of Dearborn,
in Chicago.

Music:

Robert Johnson
Sweet Home Chicago


jbm
Chicago
1/7/99
Added today to commemorate the birthday of Carl Sandburg
Traci Sims Sep 2021
(This is a very old Spanish fairy tale that was told to me by my first Spanish teacher. It has lived in my heart since then and I am temporarily re-telling it in prose)

A sultan in Moorish Andalucia acquired a new bride, a beautiful young woman from the snowy far North, Scandinavia, in fact. The sultan was delighted with her gentle manners and exquisite looks, but grew concerned when he noticed that, day after day, she was discovered seated in one particular window that overlooked his garden behind the grand palace, the one with a view that took in the sierras. He asked one of her servants to inquire into her mistress's behaviour and learned that she was deeply depressed because she missed her home. A little annoyed but curious, the sultan approached his bride, determined to get to the bottom of the matter and change her demeanour.

"Why so melancholy, fair one?" he asked her and with a sweep of one jeweled hand indicated the magnificence of the room they currently occupied. "I have provided thee with many jewels and beautiful clothing, sweet perfumes and well-appointed chambers, such as these, where you can take your ease. What else must I do to bring a blush to your pale cheek?"

"Oh, my Lord," replied the maiden, "If you must understand, I am a maid from the far North, the land of snows and the Midnight Sun. Forgive me for my melancholy! I am grateful for your kindness and mercy but, quite simply, I wish I could look out this window and see only the cold white snow below! How my heart would rejoice for it would remind me of home!"

The sultan smiled because it was only the beginning of the summer. "Alas, fair one," he said and sighed, "That is impossible.
While there is snow in the distant mountains, we do never see it here in the valleys." And he reached out to touch his bride's soft cheek, saddened when tears flowed over his fingers. "But be of good cheer. I am the ruler of these lands and if we cannot go to the snows, then...I shall bring them here."

Several months went by and the princess became sadder and sadder to the point where she could no longer leave her bedchamber. And then, one crisp lovely late winter morning, the sultan's servants announced his entry into her bedroom. The sultan was shocked when he saw her, still beautiful but so thin and so pale. However, he was confident and urged her servants to dress her warmly and prepare her a chair. "My lovely one," he said to his bride, "I have something to show you. Come away with me. I think you will be pleased."

The sultan, his princess, and their retinue proceeded to the window where she had previously sat, the window looking over the garden, the one with the view of the sierras. And, lo! Everyone but the sultan gasped when the hangings were pulled aside to reveal a garden filled with...snow.

But it wasn't snow.

The garden was filled with almond tress, thousands upon thousands of almond trees as far as the eye could see, each almond tree bursting with life, each tree laden with fragile white flowers.

Do I need to say that the princess was stunned by her husband's loving gesture and that she recovered immediately?

As you expect, they lived happily ever after and every year, the princess had her beloved "snow".

The End.
If anyone knows where I can find the original poem, please leave me a message. thanks.
David Nelson Sep 2011
Sultan of Swing

He was a rocker and a roller, always had a plan
loved beautiful women, yes he was a full-blooded man
drove a fast fancy car, had plenty of bucks
when times went bad, he'd just say "aw shucks"

a great attitude, he cared about the world
tried giving his time, as causes unfurled
gave freely his money, and offered his mind
yes he was a prince, always so kind

music was his calling, his goddess of life
more passionate with notes, then most with their wife
he would listen and play, and lift his voice to sing
happy dancing feet, he was the Sultan of Swing  

whenever a cloud, would pass in front of the Sun
he took it as a challenge, a reason for some fun
a happy little tune, would somehow appear
he would whistle and hum, until resolution was near

rock tunes were great, loud cruising guitars
he'd play anywhere, on the street or in bars
making people smile, was his favorite thing
jazzy dancing feet, he was the Sultan of Swing

Morpheus aka Gomer LePoet
RAJ NANDY Jul 2015
INTRODUCTION TO THE FIRST WORLD WAR
            BY RAJ NANDY: PART ONE

                   INTRODUCTION
  “What passing-bells for those who die as cattle?
         Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
        Only the stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle
    Can patter out their hasty orisons.”
      -by Wilfred Owen, British Army Lt. killed in
        action in France on 04th Nov 1918.

The Socialists called it the ‘Imperialist’s War’,
and it was the ‘Trench War’ for the soldiers;
But Europe hailed it as ‘The War to End All Wars’,                
Expecting it to end prior to 1914’s Christmas!
But alas, it soon became a mighty global war
fueled by national and ethnic aspirations and
territorial lust!
The assassination of Archduke Ferdinand, heir
to the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy, -
On the 28thof June 1914 at Sarajevo, was the
spark which triggered off this great catastrophe!
During 1876 when German Chancellor Bismarck
was asked about chances of an European War at
a future date;
He felt that Europe was like a big store house of
gunpowder keg!
While pointing to the volatile BALKANS he had said,
That European leaders were smoking in an arsenal,
where a small spark could cause a mighty explosion!
And 38 years later the world had witnessed,
Bismarck’s unfortunate prediction!
This war ended on 11th of November 1918, after a
four and half year’s long duration;
With 16.5 million military and civilian deaths, and
many more wounded and missing in action!
For the War had spread beyond the traditional
killing fields,
Killing many innocent civilians following the
bombing raids by German Zeppelins!
Now, before proceeding further some background
information here becomes necessary,
To understand the socio-political events leading
to the unfolding of this Great War Story!

         PRELUDE TO THE GREAT WAR
The Nationalistic fervor aroused by Napoleon,
And the February Revolution of 1848 in France,
Inspired Europe’s inhabitants to preserve their
ethnic and racial identities, without leaving
things to chance!
The Italian and German unification, and the
Hapsburg Austro-Hungarian polarization,
Aroused the expectations of the Slavic people,
Who remained spread all over Central and
Eastern Europe!
The various ethnic groups forming the Slavic race,
Always dreamt of an independent Balkan State!

         CAUSES FOR ‘THE GREAT WAR’
Imperialism, Nationalism, Militarization, Alliances,
and finally the assassination of the Archduke
Ferdinand,
Are the five main causes for this war, which is
generally mentioned by our Historians!
However, I shall now try to acquaint you briefly,  
With some relevant events from our recorded
History.

BRITISH IMPERIALISM:
Towards the turn of the 20th century Britain was
the dominant global imperial power;
And since the mid-19th Century it was seen that
the sun never set over the British Empire!
The British had a vast mercantile and a naval fleet,
To trade with, and administer their far flung colonies.
At the turn of the 20th Century the British Navy was
changing over from steam to oil power like other
big nations;
So the oil fields of the Middle East was important
for British militarization.
Also passage through the Suez Canal was vital for
maintaining their colonial possessions!
These facts will get linked up in Part Two of my
later composition!

GERMAN NATIONALISM:
The nationalistic fervor aroused in Germany
since Chancellor Bismarck’s days,
Made the Germans try to outstrip the British
in many ways!
This fervor was reflected in Goethe’s poetry and
through Richard Wagner’s musical notes;
Between 1898 and 1912 five Naval Laws were
passed in the German Reichstag, by majority
votes,
For building battleships, cruisers, and 96 torpedo
boats;
Which later became a scourge for Allied and
British shipping, known as the U-Boats!
The German nationalism and militarization went
hand in hand during those days,
While her industrialization also progressed at a
rapid pace.
Kaiser Wilhelm II had sought “a place in the sun”
by trying to outstrip the British in the arms race!
Statistic show more number of German scientists
had received the Noble Prize for their inventions,
Between this period and World War- II, when
compared with the combined winners of other
Western nations!

AUSTRIA-HUNGARIAN MONARCHY:
In 1867 by a comprising agreement between
Vienna and Budapest the capital cities,
The Austro-Hungarian kingdom became a Dual
Monarchy!
Many ethnic groups had composed this Monarchy
in those early days as we see;
With Germans, Hungarians, Romanians, and Slavic
people like the Czechs, Poles, Croats, Slovaks,
Serbs, and the Slovenes!
While the Austrian Officers of this Monarchy spoke
German, the majority of the soldiers were Hungarians,
Czechs, Slovaks, who never spoke German!
So the soldiers were taught 68 single-words of
German commands,
For the Austro-Hungarian Imperial Army to function
collectively as one!
While Francis Joseph their sovereign and emperor,
aspired to become a strong centralized European
power.
But out of the 50 million people of this Monarchy
around 23 million were Slavs,
Who always dreamed of an independent Slavic
Kingdom in the Balkans!

THE BALKANS & THE KINGDOM OF SERBIA
After the Iberian and the Italian peninsulas of
Europe, the BALKAN peninsular is seen to be
lying in Europe’s extreme south east, -
South of the Danube and Sava River, bounded
in the west by the Adriatic and Ionian Sea.
In the east is the Aegean and Black Sea,
With the Mediterranean Sea in the south, -
washing the tip formed by Greece with its many
islands around!
Now much of the Balkan areas were under the
Ottoman Empire since early 14th Century;
And here I cut across many centuries of past
European History!
Following a series of revolutions since 1804
against the Turks,
The Principality of Serbia was carved out in the
area of the Balkans!
A new constitution in 1869 defined it as an
independent State of Serbia;
Was internationally recognized at the Treaty
of Berlin in 1878, to later become the Kingdom
of Serbia!
This kingdom was located south adjoining the
Monarchy of Austro-Hungarians, much to their
annoyance those days,
Since the Kingdom of Serbia was looked upon
as a ‘beacon of liberty’ by the Southern Slavic
race!

THE BOSNIAN CRISIS (1908-1909)  
This dual provinces of Bosnia and Herzegovina
in the Balkans,
Were formally under the control of the
Ottoman Sultan.
With permission of the Congress of Berlin in
1878, it was administered by Austria-Hungary;
Though the legal rights remained with Turkey!
But the Slavic population present there had
Nationalistic ambitions,
Aspired to join the Slavs in nearby Kingdom of
Serbia, to form a pan-Slavic nation!
The Slavic population in Austria-Hungary, also
entertained such dreams wistfully!
Now in 1908 a ‘Young Turk Movement’ based
at Macedonia,
Had planned to replace the absolute Turkish
rule in Bosnia!
And by modernizing the Constitution hoped
to rejuvenate the sick Ottoman Empire.
These developments set alarm bells ringing
in Austrian capital Vienna!
So on the 6th of October 1908 they quickly
annexed Bosnia and Herzegovina!
After having lost a war with Japan, and following
an internal Revolution of 1905 the Russians,
Prevented an escalation by staying out of the
Bosnian Crisis!
But the annexation of Bosnia had angered the
Serbs greatly,
So they started to train secret terrorist groups to
liberate Bosnia from Austria-Hungary!
These terrorist groups operated in small cells,
Under the leadership of Col. Dimitrijevic, also
known as the ‘Apis’ those days.
Now, a secret cell called the ‘Black Hand’ operated
in the Bosnian capital of Sarajevo with Gavrilo
Princep as one of its members;
Who was trained and equipped in Serbia along
with other ‘Black Hand’ members.
The Austro-Hungarian Monarchy had remained
distressed about these subversive activities by
the Slavic race!
So in Jan 1909 they obtained the unconditional
support from Germany, in the event of a war
with Serbia even if Austria was the aggressor!
And also secretly hoped in a war to annex
Serbian territory!
For in the two Balkan Wars of 1912 and 1913,
Serbia had greatly extended its territory to
become a powerful adversary!
Serbia had also obtained an assurance from
its protector Russia, should a war break out with
Austria!
Now, as tension mounted upsetting the delicate
balance of power in the Balkans gradually,
Archduke Franz Ferdinand with his wife Sophie,
planned to visit Sarajevo from Austria-Hungary!
It was a God sent moment for the secret
organization the ‘Black Hand’,
To plan the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand!

THE ASSASSINATION: SARAJEVO 28TH JUNE 1914
Now when I look back in time I pause to wonder,
How such an amateurish assassination plot could
have ever succeeded,
Without the cruel hands of destiny and fate!
The 28th of June was a bright summer’s St. Vitus
Day and a holiday in Serbia;
And also the 14th marriage anniversary of Franz
Fernandez and his wife Sophia!
Several assassins were positioned along the route,
Which was to be taken by the Archduke!
While the motorcade proceeded to the Town Hall
a bomb was thrown,
Which bounced off the rear of Archduke’s car,
Injuring few bystanders and a passenger in the
rear car!
The Archduke however refused to cancel his trip,
Saying that it was the act of some lunatic!
After completion of the Town Hall ceremony, the
Archduke wanted a change of plan deviating from
the laid down route;
By wanting to visit the patients in the hospital,
Injured by the bomb which had struck his cars
rear hood!
But the Czech driver was not briefed and took
a wrong turn by mistake;
Reversed trying to correct himself, stalled the car
stoppling next to Gavrilo Princep!
Presenting Princep with a stationary target, a
cruel work of destiny and fate!
Prince pulled out his pistol and fired two shots  
at a point blank range, killing both Ferdinand
and  wife Sophie;
When Ferdinand cried out ‘’Sophie, Sophie,
don’t die, live for the children’’, - words which
now remain enshrined in History!

TRIAL OF PRINCEP & THE CONSPIRATORS
The trial began in a military court on 12th of
October at Sarajevo,
With three judges and no jury, when Princep
pleaded 'Not Guilty'!
Killing of Duchess Sophie was an unplanned
accident,
Since he wanted to **** the Governor instead!
He claimed to be a Serbian nationalist working
for the unification of the Slavic race,
and detested the annexation of Bosnia by the
Austo-Hungarians!
Along with 15 other accused, Princep was found
guilty of high treason;
But being underage, was sentenced to 20 years
labour in prison.
But died three year's later from tuberculosis!

           CONCLUDING PART ONE
  ''Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead!
   There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,
   But dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold."
      -Rupert Brook, part of the British Naval Expeditionary
       Force, buried in Skyros, Greece 1914.
Now, looking back over a hundred years in
hindsight I do realize,
That this assassination was not the immediate
cause or the spark which triggered this War,
But only an excuse and a pretext for the
Austro-Hungarians to carve up Serbia,
And distribute those territories between
Allies and friends of Austria;
Also enhance the prestige of their Empire!
Since the war had commenced almost two
months after the Archduke’s assassination,
Austria had lost the high moral ground for
vengeance with righteous indignation!
It was a cynical and a predetermined plan
of Austria in connivance with Germany,
To destroy Serbia and squash the hopes of
Slavic people for a pan-Slavic State, - as we
now get to see!
This war ended with the dissolution of four old
Empires of the Austro-Hungarians, Ottomans,
Tsarist Russians, and the Germans!
While new nations of Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia,
Austria, and Hungary, got created from the
dissolved Empire of Austria-Hungary.
Russia gave up lands creating Finland, Estonia,
Latvia, and Lithuania.
The Ottomans gave up lands in SW Asia and the
Middle East, and in Europe retained only Turkey!
Thus this Great War had creating new nation states,
And gave Europe its new revamped face!
Composed by Raj Nandy of New Delhi,
Thanks for reading patiently!
   TO BE CONTINUED LATER AS PART TWO
**ALL COPY RIGHTS ARE WITH THE AUTHOR
Dear Readers, this is a product of three weeks of my research work, put across in simplified verse! Hope to compose Part Two at a later date, and tell you about trench warfare & the poems composed about this War! On the 28th of June 2015, 101 years of this First World War was completed! Kindly give Comments only after reading in your spare time, for this Great War  took place during our grandfather's time! Thanks! -Raj
RAJ NANDY Dec 2017
THE TRUE STORY OF JERUSALEM IN VERSE :
  FOLLOWING DONALD TRUMP'S RECOGNITION
Dear Readers, to usher in the spirit of Christmas, I wish to
share with you the true Story of Jerusalem in Verse. Based on
Biblical chronology, and several articles about its Early History.
Though the three of our World’s greatest religions have a common
lineage, yet religious bickering and hatred continues to exist in
our present age! Let this Season of Christmas bring peace with
goodwill and love. Let us all pray together for a peaceful World!
If you like this true story, kindly recommend it to all your poet
friends to read this slice of History. Thanks, from Raj Nandy.

   STORY OF JERUSALEM - GOD'S “PROMISED LAND”
                         IN VERSE: By Raj Nandy
                  
                       INTRODUCTION
After reading my ‘Arab Contribution to Science’ and the
downfall of Islam’s Golden Age,
A friend had requested me to write about The Crusades.
Now the Mongol contribution was far greater towards
Islamic Empire’s downfall,
For though the First Crusade besieged the Holy City of
Jerusalem making it fall,
The subsequent Crusades to the Seljuk Turks lost all!
But before writing about the Nine Crusades proper,
To acquaint my readers with the historic city of
Jerusalem becomes my present endeavor.
For Jerusalem is sacred to the Jews, Christian, and the
Muslims alike,
As their holy relics and shrines are housed in that Old
City’s revered sites!
But prior to narrating the story of Old Jerusalem City,
Let me tell you briefly about its early history.
About the patriarch Abraham, whom God led to this
‘Promised Land’.
From where this true story of Jerusalem really began.

                 HISTORICAL  BACKGROUND
The city of Jerusalem was twice razed to the ground.
Besieged 23 times, attacked 52 times, captured and
recaptured 44 times, surprising as it all may sound!
In an era of idolatry and multiple gods, Abraham born*
in the ancient City of Ur,# believed in a single God!
(1800 BC)
So God was pleased and in a covenant with Patriarch
Abraham,
Blessed him to become the ‘Father of Many Nations’
in a distant ‘Promised Land’!
Thus Abraham with his wife Sarah and nephew Lot,
Entered the Land of Canaan as promised by God.
But when a famine ravaged the Land of Canaan,
Abraham had moved onto Egypt on his own!
Having suffered there for some ungodly acts, his
return to the Land of Canaan remains a historical fact.
Through Abraham and Sarah’s Egyptian maid Hagar, -
his son Ishmael was born.
From Ishmael descended the ‘Ishmaelites’, to
become the Twelve Arab Tribes later on!
Next, with the blessings of the Lord, to Abraham
and Sarah son Isaac was born.
Isaac’s son Jacob fathered the Twelve Jewish Tribes,
Who became collectively known as the ‘Israelites’.
From the ‘Tribe of Benjamin’ came King Saul, the
first King of united Israel rising tall.
From the ‘Tribe of Judah’ King David, Solomon, and
several Kings of Judah did rise;
As proud forefathers of the Messiah Jesus Christ!
Thus in Judaism both the Arabs and the Christians
find a common lineage;
Yet unfortunately bitter differences continue to
exist even in our present age!
NOTES: Canaan was the ancient name of a large & prosperous
country (at times independent, at others a territory to Egypt),
which roughly corresponds to present day Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, and Israel. Canaan
was also known as ‘Phoenicia’ between 3200 BC & 539 BC. # Ur = an important
Sumerian city-state in ancient Mesopotamia.


           ORIGINS OF JERUSALEM
Jerusalem has been hailed by many names,
Gets mentioned as ‘Rushalium’ in an ancient
Egyptian text!  (2000 BC)
Also as Salem, Moriah, Jebus and Zion, this capital city
of the Israelites had been known.
Jerusalem as the remnant town of Salem, is also
mentioned in the ‘Book of Joshua’ Chapter Ten.
It was earlier a Jebusite City, which was conquered by  
King David around 1003 BC;
When David shifted his capital to Jerusalem from Hebron.
In Jerusalem he kept the Holy Ark in a sacred Tabernacle,
For which his son King Solomon had built the First Great
Temple.
This Sacred Ark contained the ‘Ten Commandments’,
Which accompanied the Israelites during their 40 years
of desert wandering with Moses, as their guidance!
But since majority of the tribes were hesitant to fight the
Canaanites for their ‘Promised Land’,
God blessed Joshua, the successor of Moses, to lead the
Tribes to their ‘Promised Land’.
NOTE: Jebusite was one of the ancient Canaanite tribes, conquered by
King David.

        TURBULENT HISTORY OF JERUSALEM
Now cutting across several centuries of its dynamic
history, let me continue with Jerusalem’s Story.
The death of King Solomon (931 BC) ended Israel’s
‘Golden Age’,
And this united Kingdom of Israel was split into
Northern and Southern states.
Ten Tribes formed the Northern Kingdom of Israel
with its capital at Samaria;
While Jerusalem became the capital of the Southern
half called Judea.
In unity lies strength, and in division further dissention;
This kingdom of King David and Solomon now becomes
prey to several foreign invasions!
Jerusalem gets attacked by the Egyptians, Assyrians,
Babylonians, Persians, and those imperial Romans, who
had initially built but later destroyed the Second
Jewish Temple!
The cruel King Herod, Judea’s Roman Protector,
Though of unstable mind, was a great builder!
‘The Wailing Wall’ and most of the ruins visible today,
Were built by the despot Herod as Archeologists say!
King Herod enlarged the Temple Mount with a massive
retaining wall around it.
Renovated the Second Temple which finally acquired  
his name!
But in 70 AD the Roman Emperor Titus, razed this
Second Temple to the ground, as Historians inform us!
Jerusalem had some peace under the Christian Byzantine
Emperor Constantine,
Who upheld Christianity, and his mother Helena inspired
the building of many hallowed shrines;
Only to be occupied by the Seljuk Turks later, who
desecrated those shrines!
Till the First Crusade in 1099 captured Jerusalem, to
provide eighty eight years of respite.
Next in 1187 the Seljuk Turk Saladin conquered Jerusalem;
When a peace treaty with Richard ‘The Lion Heart’ allowed
the visit of its ‘Holy Shrines’ by the Christians.
The British captured Jerusalem from the Ottoman Turks
in Nineteen hundred and seventeen;
And in 1948 the State of Israel was born, realizing
Abraham’s dream!
But surrounded by hostile enemies on all sides, Israel
had to fight continuously for its survival as a Nation;
And now I pause to pay my humble tribute to those
valiant Israelites with salutation!

           THE OLD CITY OF JERUSALEM
Nestled on the hollow of the hills of Judea this city
spreads out on a plateau 800 meters above the sea.
With its Dome shining in the sun, dominating  some five
thousand years of history!
The City stretches 0.9 square kilometers surrounded by
retaining walls between 16 to 46 feet in height.
Which includes more than 200 monuments and sacred
sites!
Until the 1860s the Old City had represented entire
Jerusalem collectively.
But later under the initiative of the British, settlements
outside its wall began confidently.
During 1946 when Israel declared its Independence,
The ‘old city’ remained under the control of the Jordanians;
Only to be liberated during the Six Day’s War in 1967!

           OLD CITY GATES AND QUARTERS
The walls around the Old City stretch for 4.5 kilometers,
With its height varying between five to sixteen meters.
It has 43 surveillance towers and eleven gates.
However, only seven gates remain open as on date.
The current wall was built in 1538 by Sultan Suleiman
the Magnificent.
On the southern side of this wall is the Zion Gate, leading
to the Armenian Quarters overlooking Mount Zion outside;
Where lies King David’s tomb, a Holy Site.
The Dung Gate leads to the Jewish Quarters from the south;
And the way to Al-Aksa Mosque inside the Temple Mount.
The Jaffa or the Main Gate is on the west, with its famous
Citadel and the ‘Tower of David’ built by King Herod.
This gate leads to the Christian Quarters inside, while the
road goes to the port of Jaffa outside.
A New Gate was also built further up on the north-western
side,    (in1898)
For entry of the German Emperor William the Second,
through the Christian side!
The Damascus Gate in the middle of the Northern Wall
was the largest and the most heavily defended Gate.
Where excavations have revealed an old ‘Roman Gate’
beneath it.
Through this Gate had entered the Holy Crusade!
Further east on the northern wall is the ‘Herod’s Gate’,
Leading to the Muslim Quarters and the ‘Souk’, – the
Arab markets.
On the East is the Lions Gate, with carved figure of
lions on the gate’s crest;
Both for the Christian and the Jews this gate has a
special significance!
For this gate marks the walk ‘Via Dolorosa’, the path
taken by Jesus from the Garden of Gethsemane to
his Crucifixion Site,
Where stands the Church of Holy Sepulcher built by
the Emperor Constantine.
In 1967 the Israeli 55th Para Brigade entered through this
‘Lions Gate’, after a hand-to-hand fight with the Jordanians.
When they hoisted the Star of David on the Temple Mount  
to reclaim Jerusalem!
Jerusalem was declared as their Capital City,
Concluding a chapter of its turbulent History!

Since the time of the Crusades Jerusalem has remained
traditionally divided into Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and
Armenian sections;
Each with its sacred Synagogues, Churches, and Mosques,
defying the City’s unification!
Yet amidst the gong of church bells, the call of Muezzin,
and recitation of the Torah,
Old Jerusalem reverberates with a unique religious
euphoria!

           SACRED MONUMENTS AND SITES
‘The Wailing Wall’ is the more popular name for that part
of Western Wall built by King Herod during 19 BC,
Around the Second Jewish Temple which he renovated,
for the world to see!
Today only 167 feet of this exposed ‘Wall’ remains,
which is 62 feet high.
As a solitary witness to that once glorious past, which
evokes a deep sighs!
It is the holiest of Jewish shrines today where they
congregate.
To pray in front of this Sacred Wall and to loudly lament,
The loss of their Great Temple which was once made!
Inside the cracks in the wall many folded papers can be
seen;
Coating their petitions to God with prayers from within!

The Temple Mount is perhaps the oldest of all shrines.
Sacred to both the Christians and the Muslims alike!
For here on a rock alter Abraham had bound his son
Isaac,
Ready to sacrifice him when the Lord put him to a test!
Here King Solomon had built the First Jewish Temple;
Which during 587 BC, was destroyed by the King of
Babylon!
The King also took the Jews into captivity lasting nearly
seventy long years;
And Psalm 137 tells us how the Jews remembering Zion
on the banks of River of Babylon, - shed their tears!
That old song by ‘Bonny M’, now rings in my ears!
This was also the site of the Second Temple destroyed
by the Romans.
Who renamed Jerusalem as ‘Aelia Capitolina’, making
the City pagan!
Al-Aqsa Mosque or ‘The Farthest Mosque’, located on the
Mount, was completed around 705 AD they say.
Has been claimed by the Muslims as the site where their
Prophet traveled ‘during the night’ from Mecca to pray;
And from where angle Gabriel accompanied him to
Heaven or ‘Jannat,’ - all the way!
So they constructed the ‘Dome of The Rock’ to mark
this ascension;
Which around 691 AD saw its completion.
The Golden Gate on the east leading to the Temple Mount,
Was sealed by the Muslims during Sixth Century following
their fears and doubts.
For the Jew’s claim their Messiah will enter through this
Golden Gate one day.
Which unnerved the Muslims whatever one may say.
So outside this sealed gate they also built a cemetery;
Let future events gradually unfold in Jerusalem’s Story!

                       CONCLUSION
Now dear readers I conclude this narration, with some
food for thought and contemplation.
‘Jerusalem’ is mentioned in the Jewish Bible 669 times,
and 154 times as ‘Zion’. (‘Land of Israel’)
In the Christian Bible it is mentioned 161 times; but not
once in the Hindu ‘Gita’, the Buddhist Scriptures, or in
the Muslim Koran;
Not forgetting the fact that God is Supreme and One!
The Koran speaks only of “The Furthest Mosque” where  
the Prophet went to pray,
From Mecca we know Holy Medina comes on the way.*
(please see notes below)
The Holy Bible is also a record of Early Civilizations ,
Supported by Archaeological finds, carbon dating, and
countless excavations.
The Jewish claim to the ‘Land of Canaan’ is more than
3000 years old;
And Israel today occupies 75% of that historic piece of
land we know and have been told!
The Old City in 1981 has been declared as UNESCO’s
Heritage Site.
Let the ‘Spirit of Humanity’ overtake all religious divide!
It is true that History has evolved from the Myths and
Legends of the past.
But it is for us to separate the wheat from the chaff.
I have done adequate research of this Ancient History.
Now I leave it to You my Readers for drawing your own conclusions after reading this true Story!
Thank you readers for reading patiently,
From Raj Nandy of New Delhi .
ALL COPY RIGHTS ARE WITH THE AUTHOR ONLY
*** Dear Readers, I have pointed out in the concluding portion that as per all available evidence, claim of the Holy Kaaba on the Temple Mount by the Muslims is not supported by the true History of Jerusalem!
Of Man’s first disobedience, and the fruit
Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste
Brought death into the World, and all our woe,
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man
Restore us, and regain the blissful seat,
Sing, Heavenly Muse, that, on the secret top
Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire
That shepherd who first taught the chosen seed
In the beginning how the heavens and earth
Rose out of Chaos: or, if Sion hill
Delight thee more, and Siloa’s brook that flowed
Fast by the oracle of God, I thence
Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song,
That with no middle flight intends to soar
Above th’ Aonian mount, while it pursues
Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.
And chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer
Before all temples th’ upright heart and pure,
Instruct me, for thou know’st; thou from the first
Wast present, and, with mighty wings outspread,
Dove-like sat’st brooding on the vast Abyss,
And mad’st it pregnant: what in me is dark
Illumine, what is low raise and support;
That, to the height of this great argument,
I may assert Eternal Providence,
And justify the ways of God to men.
  Say first—for Heaven hides nothing from thy view,
Nor the deep tract of Hell—say first what cause
Moved our grand parents, in that happy state,
Favoured of Heaven so highly, to fall off
From their Creator, and transgress his will
For one restraint, lords of the World besides.
Who first seduced them to that foul revolt?
  Th’ infernal Serpent; he it was whose guile,
Stirred up with envy and revenge, deceived
The mother of mankind, what time his pride
Had cast him out from Heaven, with all his host
Of rebel Angels, by whose aid, aspiring
To set himself in glory above his peers,
He trusted to have equalled the Most High,
If he opposed, and with ambitious aim
Against the throne and monarchy of God,
Raised impious war in Heaven and battle proud,
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
Hurled headlong flaming from th’ ethereal sky,
With hideous ruin and combustion, down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal fire,
Who durst defy th’ Omnipotent to arms.
  Nine times the space that measures day and night
To mortal men, he, with his horrid crew,
Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf,
Confounded, though immortal. But his doom
Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him: round he throws his baleful eyes,
That witnessed huge affliction and dismay,
Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate.
At once, as far as Angels ken, he views
The dismal situation waste and wild.
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round,
As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames
No light; but rather darkness visible
Served only to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
That comes to all, but torture without end
Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed
With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.
Such place Eternal Justice has prepared
For those rebellious; here their prison ordained
In utter darkness, and their portion set,
As far removed from God and light of Heaven
As from the centre thrice to th’ utmost pole.
Oh how unlike the place from whence they fell!
There the companions of his fall, o’erwhelmed
With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,
He soon discerns; and, weltering by his side,
One next himself in power, and next in crime,
Long after known in Palestine, and named
Beelzebub. To whom th’ Arch-Enemy,
And thence in Heaven called Satan, with bold words
Breaking the horrid silence, thus began:—
  “If thou beest he—but O how fallen! how changed
From him who, in the happy realms of light
Clothed with transcendent brightness, didst outshine
Myriads, though bright!—if he whom mutual league,
United thoughts and counsels, equal hope
And hazard in the glorious enterprise
Joined with me once, now misery hath joined
In equal ruin; into what pit thou seest
From what height fallen: so much the stronger proved
He with his thunder; and till then who knew
The force of those dire arms? Yet not for those,
Nor what the potent Victor in his rage
Can else inflict, do I repent, or change,
Though changed in outward lustre, that fixed mind,
And high disdain from sense of injured merit,
That with the Mightiest raised me to contend,
And to the fierce contentions brought along
Innumerable force of Spirits armed,
That durst dislike his reign, and, me preferring,
His utmost power with adverse power opposed
In dubious battle on the plains of Heaven,
And shook his throne. What though the field be lost?
All is not lost—the unconquerable will,
And study of revenge, immortal hate,
And courage never to submit or yield:
And what is else not to be overcome?
That glory never shall his wrath or might
Extort from me. To bow and sue for grace
With suppliant knee, and deify his power
Who, from the terror of this arm, so late
Doubted his empire—that were low indeed;
That were an ignominy and shame beneath
This downfall; since, by fate, the strength of Gods,
And this empyreal sybstance, cannot fail;
Since, through experience of this great event,
In arms not worse, in foresight much advanced,
We may with more successful hope resolve
To wage by force or guile eternal war,
Irreconcilable to our grand Foe,
Who now triumphs, and in th’ excess of joy
Sole reigning holds the tyranny of Heaven.”
  So spake th’ apostate Angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair;
And him thus answered soon his bold compeer:—
  “O Prince, O Chief of many throned Powers
That led th’ embattled Seraphim to war
Under thy conduct, and, in dreadful deeds
Fearless, endangered Heaven’s perpetual King,
And put to proof his high supremacy,
Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate,
Too well I see and rue the dire event
That, with sad overthrow and foul defeat,
Hath lost us Heaven, and all this mighty host
In horrible destruction laid thus low,
As far as Gods and heavenly Essences
Can perish: for the mind and spirit remains
Invincible, and vigour soon returns,
Though all our glory extinct, and happy state
Here swallowed up in endless misery.
But what if he our Conqueror (whom I now
Of force believe almighty, since no less
Than such could have o’erpowered such force as ours)
Have left us this our spirit and strength entire,
Strongly to suffer and support our pains,
That we may so suffice his vengeful ire,
Or do him mightier service as his thralls
By right of war, whate’er his business be,
Here in the heart of Hell to work in fire,
Or do his errands in the gloomy Deep?
What can it the avail though yet we feel
Strength undiminished, or eternal being
To undergo eternal punishment?”
  Whereto with speedy words th’ Arch-Fiend replied:—
“Fallen Cherub, to be weak is miserable,
Doing or suffering: but of this be sure—
To do aught good never will be our task,
But ever to do ill our sole delight,
As being the contrary to his high will
Whom we resist. If then his providence
Out of our evil seek to bring forth good,
Our labour must be to pervert that end,
And out of good still to find means of evil;
Which ofttimes may succeed so as perhaps
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb
His inmost counsels from their destined aim.
But see! the angry Victor hath recalled
His ministers of vengeance and pursuit
Back to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hail,
Shot after us in storm, o’erblown hath laid
The fiery surge that from the precipice
Of Heaven received us falling; and the thunder,
Winged with red lightning and impetuous rage,
Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now
To bellow through the vast and boundless Deep.
Let us not slip th’ occasion, whether scorn
Or satiate fury yield it from our Foe.
Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild,
The seat of desolation, void of light,
Save what the glimmering of these livid flames
Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend
From off the tossing of these fiery waves;
There rest, if any rest can harbour there;
And, re-assembling our afflicted powers,
Consult how we may henceforth most offend
Our enemy, our own loss how repair,
How overcome this dire calamity,
What reinforcement we may gain from hope,
If not, what resolution from despair.”
  Thus Satan, talking to his nearest mate,
With head uplift above the wave, and eyes
That sparkling blazed; his other parts besides
Prone on the flood, extended long and large,
Lay floating many a rood, in bulk as huge
As whom the fables name of monstrous size,
Titanian or Earth-born, that warred on Jove,
Briareos or Typhon, whom the den
By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast
Leviathan, which God of all his works
Created hugest that swim th’ ocean-stream.
Him, haply slumbering on the Norway foam,
The pilot of some small night-foundered skiff,
Deeming some island, oft, as ****** tell,
With fixed anchor in his scaly rind,
Moors by his side under the lee, while night
Invests the sea, and wished morn delays.
So stretched out huge in length the Arch-fiend lay,
Chained on the burning lake; nor ever thence
Had risen, or heaved his head, but that the will
And high permission of all-ruling Heaven
Left him at large to his own dark designs,
That with reiterated crimes he might
Heap on himself damnation, while he sought
Evil to others, and enraged might see
How all his malice served but to bring forth
Infinite goodness, grace, and mercy, shewn
On Man by him seduced, but on himself
Treble confusion, wrath, and vengeance poured.
  Forthwith upright he rears from off the pool
His mighty stature; on each hand the flames
Driven backward ***** their pointing spires, and,rolled
In billows, leave i’ th’ midst a horrid vale.
Then with expanded wings he steers his flight
Aloft, incumbent on the dusky air,
That felt unusual weight; till on dry land
He lights—if it were land that ever burned
With solid, as the lake with liquid fire,
And such appeared in hue as when the force
Of subterranean wind transprots a hill
Torn from Pelorus, or the shattered side
Of thundering Etna, whose combustible
And fuelled entrails, thence conceiving fire,
Sublimed with mineral fury, aid the winds,
And leave a singed bottom all involved
With stench and smoke. Such resting found the sole
Of unblest feet. Him followed his next mate;
Both glorying to have scaped the Stygian flood
As gods, and by their own recovered strength,
Not by the sufferance of supernal Power.
  “Is this the region, this the soil, the clime,”
Said then the lost Archangel, “this the seat
That we must change for Heaven?—this mournful gloom
For that celestial light? Be it so, since he
Who now is sovereign can dispose and bid
What shall be right: farthest from him is best
Whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
Above his equals. Farewell, happy fields,
Where joy for ever dwells! Hail, horrors! hail,
Infernal world! and thou, profoundest Hell,
Receive thy new possessor—one who brings
A mind not to be changed by place or time.
The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.
What matter where, if I be still the same,
And what I should be, all but less than he
Whom thunder hath made greater? Here at least
We shall be free; th’ Almighty hath not built
Here for his envy, will not drive us hence:
Here we may reigh secure; and, in my choice,
To reign is worth ambition, though in Hell:
Better to reign in Hell than serve in Heaven.
But wherefore let we then our faithful friends,
Th’ associates and co-partners of our loss,
Lie thus astonished on th’ oblivious pool,
And call them not to share with us their part
In this unhappy mansion, or once more
With rallied arms to try what may be yet
Regained in Heaven, or what more lost in Hell?”
  So Satan spake; and him Beelzebub
Thus answered:—”Leader of those armies bright
Which, but th’ Omnipotent, none could have foiled!
If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge
Of hope in fears and dangers—heard so oft
In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge
Of battle, when it raged, in all assaults
Their surest signal—they will soon resume
New courage and revive, though now they lie
Grovelling and prostrate on yon lake of fire,
As we erewhile, astounded and amazed;
No wonder, fallen such a pernicious height!”
  He scare had ceased when the superior Fiend
Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield,
Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round,
Behind him cast. The broad circumference
Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb
Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views
At evening, from the top of Fesole,
Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands,
Rivers, or mountains, in her spotty globe.
His spear—to equal which the tallest pine
Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast
Of some great ammiral, were but a wand—
He walked with, to support uneasy steps
Over the burning marl, not like those steps
On Heaven’s azure; and the torrid clime
Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire.
Nathless he so endured, till on the beach
Of that inflamed sea he stood, and called
His legions—Angel Forms, who lay entranced
Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks
In Vallombrosa, where th’ Etrurian shades
High over-arched embower; or scattered sedge
Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion armed
Hath vexed the Red-Sea coast, whose waves o’erthrew
Busiris and his Memphian chivalry,
While with perfidious hatred they pursued
The sojourners of Goshen, who beheld
From the safe shore their floating carcases
And broken chariot-wheels. So thick bestrown,
Abject and lost, lay these, covering the flood,
Under amazement of their hideous change.
He called so loud that all the hollow deep
Of Hell resounded:—”Princes, Potentates,
Warriors, the Flower of Heaven—once yours; now lost,
If such astonishment as this can seize
Eternal Spirits! Or have ye chosen this place
After the toil of battle to repose
Your wearied virtue, for the ease you find
To slumber here, as in the vales of Heaven?
Or in this abject posture have ye sworn
To adore the Conqueror, who now beholds
Cherub and Seraph rolling in the flood
With scattered arms and ensigns, till anon
His swift pursuers from Heaven-gates discern
Th’ advantage, and, descending, tread us down
Thus drooping, or with linked thunderbolts
Transfix us to the bottom of this gulf?
Awake, arise, or be for ever fallen!”
  They heard, and were abashed, and up they sprung
Upon the wing, as when men wont to watch
On duty, sleeping found by whom they dread,
Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake.
Nor did they not perceive the evil plight
In which they were, or the fierce pains not feel;
Yet to their General’s voice they soon obeyed
Innumerable. As when the potent rod
Of Amram’s son, in Egypt’s evil day,
Waved round the coast, up-called a pitchy cloud
Of locusts, warping on the eastern wind,
That o’er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung
Like Night, and darkened all the land of Nile;
So numberless were those bad Angels seen
Hovering on wing under the cope of Hell,
‘Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires;
Till, as a signal given, th’ uplifted spear
Of their great Sultan waving to direct
Their course, in even balance down they light
On the firm brimstone, and fill all the plain:
A multitude like which the populous North
Poured never from her frozen ***** to pass
Rhene or the Danaw, when her barbarous sons
Came like a deluge on the South, and spread
Beneath Gibraltar to the Libyan sands.
Forthwith, form every squadron and each band,
The heads and leaders thither haste where stood
Their great Commander—godlike Shapes, and Forms
Excelling human; princely Dignities;
And Powers that erst in Heaven sat on thrones,
Though on their names in Heavenly records now
Be no memorial, blotted out and rased
By their rebellion from the Books of Life.
Nor had they yet among the sons of Eve
Got them new names, till, wandering o’er the earth,
Through God’s high sufferance for the trial of man,
By falsities and lies the greatest part
Of mankind they corrupted to forsake
God their Creator, and th’ invisible
Glory of him that made them to transform
Oft to the image of a brute, adorned
With gay religions full of pomp and gold,
And devils to adore for deities:
Then were they known to men by various names,
And various idols through the heathen world.
  Say, Muse, their names then known, who first, who last,
Roused fr
ryyan May 2011
Once upon a time.
In a land far far away.
Their existed a rhyme,
About the greatest game ever played.
This is the said rhyme 
preserved from the acclaim the game has gained.
Passed on to generations about the game at it’s prime. 

A game that should be reclaimed from the fame its gained at the present time.
This game came from the brain of a person
who aimed to have the time of his life. 

Town ball was for all. In any season: spring, summer, winter, or fall.
Town ball was a ball for all: no despair, grief,  or strife, could spawn.
The rules were simple
Hit ball: bases touch all. 

Teams were never full. 
And the field could sprawl.
Everything was in play just like everyone could play.
No obstacle was in the way, no direction out of play.
Yet, according to the natural law of capitalistic America,
An evolution began to make money.
**** you Jean-Baptiste Pierre Antoine de Monet!!
You may have nothing to do with baseball, 

But you spawned the evilest idea of them all. 

That evolution is caused by natural law, 

and the evolution of baseball is the downfall of all that is America.
Baseball was at one time a game of fun; 

good times shared with one another under the sun. 

Eventually they agreed to decree the official rules, 

And it was not Abner Doubleday who would have the last say in history,
for that story is a myth that we should flee from like fools.
Instead it was Alexander Cartwright who penned the knickerbocker rules.
These rules spread to the rest of the clubs,
and eventually it was coined the New York game. 

No longer could anyone play but only the ones who could slug.
If you wanted to win, it would be a sin,
to put in the has been who brought the game shame.
This game spread during the civil war. 

In down time to escape they played for fun instead of being bored.
The game spread like never before,
and soon the game covered the entire eastern shore.
The N.A.A.B.B.P was formed and by 1867 four hundred teams were born,
and in 1870 the Chicago Cubs actually won!
They actually were good before 1908,
heck some people might even say they were great. 

I don’t mean to taint their slate or bait your hate.
I just wish to point out that its been some time since that date,
and you Cub fans still must await.
Meanwhile these gentleman clubs would compete in the heat,
for they wanted to prove they were the ones to beat. 

Yet promoters wanted money so they charged the food you eat.
Then they fenced in the meet.
No longer could you watch the teams compete from the street.
If you wanted to know who would defeat you must enter with a receipt
to show that you payed for your seat.
There you would meet, eat, and greet,
and keep track of the game on your score sheet
Eventually the wood frames turned to concrete

in order to hold more people inside their games.
And the players started to earn fame.
And eventually everyone knew their name.
No longer was the game a game for games sake,
instead it was meant to entertain the fame-craved.
All that matter was the money made at the gate,
and since then the game has never been the same.
Before players would score more and their would be less of a bore.
Fielders caught with their fingers the stingers thrown,
but for catchers that was absurd.

Before, fans would abhor to the idea of a fielder with a glove adorned,
but eventually the planted seed, grew steadily, and the fielders glove was born.
At first their was no web extended between the finger and thumb.
Because that would make it so easy to catch it would be just dumb. 

Yet, somehow the web spread and eventually it won. 

Now any *** could catch between finger and thumb
and the hand would not become numb.
This lead the dead ball era dread at the start of nineteen hundred.
And ego went to Owen Wilson’s head as he lead the league with triples.
Thirty six triples the record was set
and will never be broken it has been said.
But instead its embed into the unread
record book for others to go ahead and try to break with dread.
There were several reasons that lead to the dead ball.
First of all, the same ball was used until it started to unravel.
Second, was that you would draw a strike for every foul ball,
And lastly was the spit ball which would dance to any squall.
All these reasons made the pitchers un-hittable. 

And batters seeing their batting average fall
would take a bar crawl and bawl.
But then a savior came to us all. 

This man hit the ball so far that it would fall somewhere past Senegal.
The claims were esteemed that this man was best of them all. 

Yet, he was traded for money to fund a curtain call. 

This man’s name was George “the Babe” Herman Ruth. 

A pitcher turned outfielder because he was a great hitter is the truth.
The great bambino or Sultan of Swat,
nothing could stop him when he was hot. 

And he hit the dead ball era out of the park and it was forever lost. 

He had more home run’s as an individual, than any team,

Except for the Phillies who were good it seems.

Babe was the hit man

Pitcher he was no longer

The same change came

With this emphasis:
Babe Ruth symbolized what was

the rest of the game. 


They said pitch no more.
Sluggers are what fans adore
outfields became small. 


Power was the talk

Every team must have a guy
who hits with power. 


George “babe” Herman Ruth
and Lou Gehrig, the Yankee’s
became the very best.

Then the depression came and rained on the parade of the baseball game.
Yet, families with radio’s would listen to the games as a sort of hope. 

To escape from the world that they known. 

To escape to a game that reminded them of better days.
Then WWII came and stole away the players. 

Baseball’s talent level was now in multiple layers. 

and because of lack of talent Ted Williams batted over .400 percent
and Joe Dimaggio hit the ball again and again. 

for 56 consecutive games he hit the ball back to where it was sent.
Yet, eventually the players would return and baseball would mend. 

But not before the ladies got their own league. 

and men it did intrigue.
Is this for real?
Or a joke?
They would laugh.

Then they would choke. 

When they saw that this wasn’t just an act.
The girls continued,
“Everyone used to be able to play the good old town ball game!
“This is no longer town ball,” the men said, “the present game is not the same,
Instead its now played for money and fame.”

Oh how the good old days always change.

“Give us money” the women exclaimed,
“We’ll take your fortune we’ll take your fame!”

Some men said, “you complain! Its not the same,
you have to be good to play this game,
you can have your separate league if you need,
But this game of fame is only for white men of age!”

Oh how problems never change
Instead they always stay the same.
Yet, it wouldn’t be long
Before the trumpet would sing its song. 

That segregation would possibly end. 

Not for women but for African Americans. 

Segregation had always gone on. 

***** leagues rose up, but finally segregation’s time was gone 

due to a man named Jackie Robinson. 

And in 1947 he broke through with the Brooklyn Dodgers.
Because his team was convinced they’d make more money by Lou Durocher
Yet it came with its troubles because Not everyone on the team was happy 
And some fans were just down right ******.
Some teams such as our beloved St.Louis Cardinals even threatened to strike. 

They were not going to play if Jackie played because they had that much dislike. 

But Jackie and the Dodgers pushed through all the hate that spewed. 

Other players, managers, and fans  were rude, crude and would start feuds. 
Then they would brood every time Jackie’s name the roster would include.
But after awhile people would conclude that he was actually very good.
And after review others would start to include rather than seclude,

But this integration was long over due.
30 years till segregation could be totally subdued.
The lessons we learn are hard ones that is true. 

And it takes awhile for an entire nations perspective to take a different mood.
Now with baseball integrated the game be televised. 

This allows the money in the game to rise. 

The league now expands west; 

New markets they must test.
But hey! the players want some of this. 

They want to start a free agency. 

But this is the last thing the owners need! 

But the players want to be able to move between teams.

The players want money. Oh how things never change.
But the players got what want. 

They now can negotiate and the owners this does haunt. 

The game now is wrapped inside this twisted shame of money. 

Thats all any body wants so they find ways to scheme. 

Thus steroids came to the scene. 

Players now could be payed more if they played well. 

This meant that to hit the ball far, big muscles they would have to build.
In order to get that edge over everyone else. 

These players used steroids to get their help. 

Yet that was not cool with the public 
Because steroids put you at risk. 

They are dangerous at best,
and the league didn’t want to run the risk. 

Plus what about records that have stood the time test?
Are they going be broken now and no longer exist?

All because someone drugs themselves to have a bigger biceps and chest?
Someone please lay this all to rest! 

Baseball today is such a shame. 

Its boring with all of the commercial and pitcher change breaks. 

Something needs to change. 

Because its been turned into a sideshow. 

Thats the only reason why kids even go. 

To see the park, get hot dogs,
and baseballs that when put in the dark they glow. 

Then when you get home. 

you ask them what they remember about the game 

and they say, “I don’t know”. 

This game used to be interesting. 

But now I find my channels flipping. 

Even Golf is more fun to watch. 

at least they hit that ball a lot!
Baseball should but I doubt ever will, 

Get rid of all the pitchers it has to refill. 

No more pitching changes; That would increase the thrill!

Maybe players could hit the ball if wasn’t coming 100 mph every throw. 

and instead of pure talent pitchers had to use strategy,
of when to and not to throw 

That 100mph hour fastball.
Get rid of the sideshow. 

Then maybe kids would go. 

Maybe then we’d go back to being enthralled. 

Back when Baseball was actually Baseball. 

But I doubt it will because money is what matters now.
Sideshows make money so its always going to be allowed.
But I’d like to disavow
I’d like to dropout. 

I never really watched it much in the first place. 

but now I know of a better game.
Oh and one final thing to say. 

We should just go back to town ball. 

That game sounds so much cooler than baseball. 

You could really make some unique obstacles

Put in a fountain or maybe even a wall.
It just sounds like a lot of fun. 

I plan to play it this summer some. 

Everyone will be welcome. 

And we’ll have fun under the sun. 

And it won’t really matter who will win. 

Because its about having fun, building character,
and growing relationships
The end.
FEAR TO PART...
ASIF SULTAN MATTA
Monday, 28th September 2015


Once more the fear engulfed my heart,
the fear to part, ever abides;

The fear, that makes my nights cry
and quivers within me intense tide;

Once more my eyes may leak the tears
And drown my world, wrench dry inside

shivering usual and rest just rare
Is dread of death or love's chide?

forlorn and fearful seems my fate
no one to share no one is guide.

Should I once more console my wits?
snub  the  dark  and  show  it  sky?

passion to stand and zeal to fight,
but heart is chained and hands tied.
RAJ NANDY Dec 2015
Dear Readers, to usher in the spirit of Christmas, I wish to
share with you the true Story of Jerusalem in Verse. Based on
Biblical chronology, and several articles about its Early History.
Though the three of our World’s greatest religions have a common
lineage, yet religious bickering and hatred continues to exist
in our present age! Let this Season of Christmas bring peace with
goodwill and love. Let us all pray together for a peaceful World!
If you like this true story, kindly recommend it to all your poet
friends to read this slice of History. Thanks, from Raj Nandy.


   STORY OF JERUSALEM - “THE PROMISED LAND”
                IN VERSE: By Raj Nandy
                  
                       INTRODUCTION
After reading my ‘Arab Contribution to Science’ and the
downfall of Islam’s Golden Age,
A friend had requested me to write about The Crusades.
Now the Mongol contribution was far greater towards
Islamic Empire’s downfall,
For though the First Crusade besieged the Holy City of
Jerusalem making it fall,
The subsequent Crusades to the Seljuk Turks lost all!
But before writing about the Nine Crusades proper,
To acquaint my readers with the historic city of
Jerusalem becomes my present endeavor.
For Jerusalem is sacred to the Jews, Christian, and the
Muslims alike,
As their holy relics and shrines are housed in that Old
City’s revered sites!
But prior to narrating the story of Old Jerusalem City,
Let me tell you briefly about its early history.
About the patriarch Abraham, whom God led to this
‘Promised Land’.
From where this true story of Jerusalem really began.

                 HISTORICAL  BACKGROUND
The city of Jerusalem was twice razed to the ground.
Besieged 23 times, attacked 52 times, captured and
recaptured 44 times, surprising as it all may sound!
In an era of idolatry and multiple gods, Abraham born*
in the ancient City of Ur,# believed in a single God!
(1800 BC)
So God was pleased and in a covenant with Patriarch
Abraham,
Blessed him to become the ‘Father of Many Nations’
in a distant ‘Promised Land’!
Thus Abraham with his wife Sarah and nephew Lot,
Entered the Land of Canaan as promised by God.
But when a famine ravaged the Land of Canaan,
Abraham had moved onto Egypt on his own!
Having suffered there for some ungodly acts, his
return to the Land of Canaan remains a historical fact.
Through Abraham and Sarah’s Egyptian maid Hagar, -
his son Ishmael was born.
From Ishmael descended the ‘Ishmaelites’, to
become the Twelve Arab Tribes later on!
Next, with the blessings of the Lord, to Abraham
and Sarah son Isaac was born.
Isaac’s son Jacob fathered the Twelve Jewish Tribes,
Who became collectively known as the ‘Israelites’.
From the ‘Tribe of Benjamin’ came King Saul, the
first King of united Israel rising tall.
From the ‘Tribe of Judah’ King David, Solomon, and
several Kings of Judah did rise;
As proud forefathers of the Messiah Jesus Christ!
Thus in Judaism both the Arabs and the Christians
find a common lineage;
Yet unfortunately bitter differences continue to
exist even in our present age!
NOTES: Canaan was the ancient name of a large & prosperous
country (at times independent, at others a territory to Egypt),
which roughly corresponds to present day Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, and Israel. Canaan was also known as ‘Phoenicia’ between 3200 BC & 539 BC. # Ur = an important Sumerian city-state in ancient Mesopotamia.


               ORIGINS OF JERUSALEM
Jerusalem has been hailed by many names,
Gets mentioned as ‘Rushalium’ in an ancient
Egyptian text!  (2000 BC)
Also as Salem, Moriah, Jebus and Zion, this capital city
of the Israelites had been known.
Jerusalem as the remnant town of Salem, is also
mentioned in the ‘Book of Joshua’ Chapter Ten.
It was earlier a Jebusite City
, which was conquered by  
King David around 1003 BC;
When David shifted his capital to Jerusalem from Hebron.
In Jerusalem he kept the Holy Ark in a sacred Tabernacle,
For which his son King Solomon had built the First Great
Temple.
This Sacred Ark contained the ‘Ten Commandments’,
Which accompanied the Israelites during their 40 years
of desert wandering with Moses, as their guidance!
But since majority of the tribes were hesitant to fight the
Canaanites for their ‘Promised Land’,
God blessed Joshua, the successor of Moses, to lead the
Tribes to their ‘Promised Land’.
NOTE: Jebusite was one of the ancient Canaanite tribes, conquered by
King David.

            TURBULENT HISTORY OF JERUSALEM
Now cutting across several centuries of its dynamic
history, let me continue with Jerusalem’s Story.
The death of King Solomon (931 BC) ended Israel’s
‘Golden Age’,
And this united Kingdom of Israel was split into
Northern and Southern states.
Ten Tribes formed the Northern Kingdom of Israel
with its capital at Samaria;
While Jerusalem became the capital of the Southern
half called Judea.
In unity lies strength, and in division further dissention;
This kingdom of King David and Solomon now becomes
prey to several foreign invasions!
Jerusalem gets attacked by the Egyptians, Assyrians,
Babylonians, Persians, and those imperial Romans, who
had initially built but later destroyed the Second
Jewish Temple!
The cruel King Herod, Judea’s Roman Protector,
Though of unstable mind, was a great builder!
‘The Wailing Wall’ and most of the ruins visible today,
Were built by the despot Herod as Archeologists say!
King Herod enlarged the Temple Mount with a massive
retaining wall around it.
Renovated the Second Temple which finally acquired  
his name!
But in 70 AD the Roman Emperor Titus, razed this
Second Temple to the ground, as Historians inform us!
Jerusalem had some peace under the Christian Byzantine
Emperor Constantine,
Who upheld Christianity, and his mother Helena inspired
the building of many hallowed shrines;
Only to be occupied by the Seljuk Turks later, who
desecrated those shrines!
Till the First Crusade in 1099 captured Jerusalem, to
provide eighty eight years of respite.
Next in 1187 the Seljuk Turk Saladin conquered Jerusalem;
When a peace treaty with Richard ‘The Lion Heart’ allowed
the visit of its ‘Holy Shrines’ by the Christians.
The British captured Jerusalem from the Ottoman Turks
in Nineteen hundred and seventeen;
And in 1948 the State of Israel was born, realizing
Abraham’s dream!
But surrounded by hostile enemies on all sides, Israel
had to fight continuously for its survival as a Nation;
And now I pause to pay my humble tribute to those
valiant Israelites with salutation!

                              THE OLD CITY
Nestled on the hollow of the hills of Judea this city
spreads out on a plateau 800 meters above the sea.
With its Dome shining in the sun, dominating  some five
thousand years of history!
The City stretches 0.9 square kilometers surrounded by
retaining walls between 16 to 46 feet in height.
Which includes more than 200 monuments and sacred
sites!
Until the 1860s the Old City had represented entire
Jerusalem collectively.
But later under the initiative of the British, settlements
outside its wall began confidently.
During 1946 when Israel declared its Independence,
The ‘old city’ remained under the control of the Jordanians;
Only to be liberated during the Six Day’s War in 1967!

                OLD CITY GATES AND QUARTERS
The walls around the Old City stretch for 4.5 kilometers,
With its height varying between five to sixteen meters.
It has 43 surveillance towers and eleven gates.
However, only seven gates remain open as on date.
The current wall was built in 1538 by Sultan Suleiman
the Magnificent.
On the southern side of this wall is the Zion Gate, leading
to the Armenian Quarters overlooking Mount Zion outside;
Where lies King David’s tomb, a Holy Site.
The Dung Gate leads to the Jewish Quarters from the south;
And the way to Al-Aksa Mosque inside the Temple Mount.
The Jaffa or the Main Gate is on the west, with its famous
Citadel and the ‘Tower of David’ built by King Herod.
This gate leads to the Christian Quarters inside, while the
road goes to the port of Jaffa outside.
A New Gate was also built further up on the north-western
side,    (in1898)
For entry of the German Emperor William the Second,
through the Christian side!
The Damascus Gate in the middle of the Northern Wall
was the largest and the most heavily defended Gate.
Where excavations have revealed an old ‘Roman Gate’
beneath it.
Through this Gate had entered the Holy Crusade!
Further east on the northern wall is the ‘Herod’s Gate’,
Leading to the Muslim Quarters and the ‘Souk’, – the
Arab markets.
On the East is the Lions Gate, with carved figure of
lions on the gate’s crest;
Both for the Christian and the Jews this gate has a
special significance!
For this gate marks the walk ‘Via Dolorosa’, the path
taken by Jesus from the Garden of Gethsemane to
his Crucifixion Site,
Where stands the Church of Holy Sepulcher built by
the Emperor Constantine.
In 1967 the Israeli 55th Para Brigade entered through this
‘Lions Gate’, after a hand-to-hand fight with the Jordanians.
When they hoisted the Star of David on the Temple Mount  
to reclaim Jerusalem!
Jerusalem was declared as their Capital City,
Concluding a chapter of its turbulent History!

Since the time of the Crusades Jerusalem has remained
traditionally divided into Jewish, Christian, Muslim, and
Armenian sections;
Each with its sacred Synagogues, Churches, and Mosques,
defying the City’s unification!
Yet amidst the gong of church bells, the call of Muezzin,
and recitation of the Torah,
Old Jerusalem reverberates with a unique religious
euphoria!

               SACRED MONUMENTS AND SITES
‘The Wailing Wall’ is the more popular name for that part
of Western Wall built by King Herod during 19 BC,
Around the Second Jewish Temple which he renovated,
for the world to see!
Today only 167 feet of this exposed ‘Wall’ remains,
which is 62 feet high.
As a solitary witness to that once glorious past, which
evokes a deep sighs!
It is the holiest of Jewish shrines today where they
congregate.
To pray in front of this Sacred Wall and to loudly lament,
The loss of their Great Temple which was once made!
Inside the cracks in the wall many folded papers can be
seen;
Coating their petitions to God with prayers from within!

The Temple Mount is perhaps the oldest of all shrines.
Sacred to both the Christians and the Muslims alike!
For here on a rock alter Abraham had bound his son
Isaac,
Ready to sacrifice him when the Lord put him to a test!
Here King Solomon had built the First Jewish Temple;
Which during 587 BC, was destroyed by the King of
Babylon!
The King also took the Jews into captivity lasting nearly
seventy long years;
And Psalm 137 tells us how the Jews remembering Zion
on the banks of River of Babylon, - shed their tears!
That old song by ‘Bonny M’, now rings in my ears!
This was also the site of the Second Temple destroyed
by the Romans.
Who renamed Jerusalem as ‘Aelia Capitolina’, making
the City pagan!
Al-Aqsa Mosque or ‘The Farthest Mosque’, located on the
Mount, was completed around 705 AD they say.
Has been claimed by the Muslims as the site where their
Prophet traveled ‘during the night’ from Mecca to pray;
And from where angle Gabriel accompanied him to
Heaven or ‘Jannat,’ - all the way!
So they constructed the ‘Dome of The Rock’ to mark
this ascension;
Which around 691 AD saw its completion.
The Golden Gate on the east leading to the Temple Mount,
Was sealed by the Muslims during Sixth Century following
their fears and doubts.
For the Jew’s claim their Messiah will enter through this
Golden Gate one day.
Which unnerved the Muslims whatever one may say.
So outside this sealed gate they also built a cemetery;
Let future events gradually unfold in Jerusalem’s Story!

                            CONCLUSION
Now dear readers I conclude this narration, with some
food for thought and contemplation.
‘Jerusalem’ is mentioned in the Jewish Bible 669 times,
and 154 times as ‘Zion’. (‘Land of Israel’)
In the Christian Bible it is mentioned 161 times; but not
once in the Hindu ‘Gita’, the Buddhist Scriptures, or in
the Koran;
Not forgetting the fact that God is Supreme and One!
The Koran speaks only of “The Furthest Mosque” where  
the Prophet went to pray,
From Mecca we know Holy Medina comes on the way.
The Holy Bible is also a record of Early Civilizations ,
Supported by Archaeological finds, carbon dating, and
countless excavations.
The Jewish claim to the ‘Land of Canaan’ is more than
3000 years old;
And Israel today occupies 75% of that historic piece of
land we know and have been told!
The Old City in 1981 has been declared as UNESCO’s
Heritage Site.
Let the ‘Spirit of Humanity’ overtake all religious divide!
It is true that History has evolved from the Myths and
Legends of the past.
But it is for us to separate the wheat from the chaff.
I have done adequate research of this Ancient History.
Now I leave it to you for drawing your own conclusions
after reading this true Story!
Thank you readers for reading patiently,
From Raj Nandy of New Delhi .
ALL COPY RIGHTS  ARE WITH THE AUTHOR ONLY
She Hare Jan 2013
A Sultan set out on a journey one week,
when back to his harem he did sneak.
It startled his wives,
who scrambled for their lives
and let out a terrified sheik.
My technology nightmare
Leaves me euphoric this morning.
Addicted, like drug trials,
I knew the risks going in,
Got hooked in The Cloud &
Now it always seems easier,
With diminished psychic chafing
Whenever I go with the flow, as the
Hipsters are saying again.
Yes, the hipsters:
Finally, some kids I can relate to.
At least on some level, their music e.g.
The first thing I did this morning,
Waiting for my laptop to boot,
Was put a CD on the stereo:
Matrix Reloaded: The Album.
I set the shuffle function,
Looping back between
Linkin Park’s Session &
Team Sleep’s Passportal.
You can tell a lot about
What kind of day it will be
By the soundtrack you choose,
Your infinite play list,
Don’t ever say these kids have no culture,
Or nothing to share with us old farts.
Old Farts: an apt, Baby Boomer term in 2015.
Kids’ music, some of it quite good,
Quite 60s-worthy if you catch my drift,
As we used to say while grazing in the grass with
Hugh Masekela & his Naai Mongoe-Swazi red,
Surfrikan homeboys & band mates, & that
ANC Kwa-Guqa Township posse,
Shadowing him since Sharpeville.
That’s right, Babaloo,
Go with the flow.
Don’t fight it. You’ve been spared the unintended
Consequences of government shenanigans &
Free market meltdowns.
Consider this a CEASE & DESIST NOTICE:
Cease swimming upstream Mr. Phelps.
Desist fighting tide & current, Michael.
A mariner’s distinction, yet serviceable &
Purposed for this narrative.
“And away we go,” croons a Gleason levitation;
Aloft we go into the wild blue yonder.
The Cloud: an exalted playground.
You are atop the slide,
Kindergarten lord of all you survey,
Sultan, Chinese Emperor & Venetian Doge,
A 90-caliber Duke of Earl,
You are euphoric, Mike.

The descent into the humanoid condition
(See Paddy Chayefsky’s Howard Beale),
Is slick and precipitous.
It begins when you first finger ****
A pocket calculator or touchtone phone,
Or use a Xerox machine.
From there it’s a quick slide down
The technology ****-shoot: video games,
Spreadsheets & word processors,
Emails, texts & tweets,
Laser projection keyboards,
Wi-Fi amplifiers,
GPS navigators, &
Apps for No-Strings *** . . .
By “****-shoot” I editorialize, of course,
In a state of future shock,
Resenting planned obsolescence,
Contemptuous of shrewd **** kids,
Wharton School sharpies,
Scoping out price curves & flowcharts,
Colluding at industry trade shows,
Powwows & confabs,
Releasing newer, more versatile
Models & spinoffs, according to a
Scheme planned three years in advance.

I salt the inevitable wounds of technology,
Taking my fight to the streets, realizing too late
My sole means of alerting the flash mob
Is by so-called smart phone,
*******!
Even the revolution has gone digital.
Poor Gil Scott Heron, dead last year at 62,
Poor Scott Heron, channeled into the
Harlem Renaissance by that loyal Chicago Defender,
Subscriber & reader, to wit: his Grandma,
A “Rainbow Conspiracy” co-conspirator,
Cooking ham hocks & collard greens for that
Mythical coalition of Young Lords,
Black Panthers & SDS.
Heron’s prognostication was wrong:
“The Revolution Will (In Fact) Be Televised!”
We’ve witnessed quite a bit of it,
Lately, prime time lately,
Live by satellite from once exotic places,
Places like Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Syria & Ferguson, MO.
I say “once exotic” because it’s hard to be
Visually intoxicated by images of screaming brown men
Sporting New York Yankee ball caps,
“Vote for Pedro” T-shirts and
$200.00 Air Jordan footwear.
Admittedly, the production values of
Revolutionary journalism have improved,
Action reported Hollywood-style,
Narrative arcs, scripted episodes,
Drive-by Potemkin villages & battle scenes,
30 or 60 or 90 day shooting schedules.
Spontaneous proletarian uprisings as Reality TV,
Riveting dramas,
High Nielsen ratings & $500K
Per minute corporate sponsors.
Let’s view the new fall line-up:
(1) “Mustafa Behaving Badly!”
(2) “Tunisian Tear Gas Talent!”
(3) “Gaddafi Gets Sodomized!”
Hannah Nov 2015
it's fascinating how our moods swing
back and forth, from dark to light
from gloomy to cheerful
from suicidal to bubbly
from hate to love
from anxious to calm
THE PROLOGUE.

Our Hoste saw well that the brighte sun
Th' arc of his artificial day had run
The fourthe part, and half an houre more;
And, though he were not deep expert in lore,
He wist it was the eight-and-twenty day
Of April, that is messenger to May;
And saw well that the shadow of every tree
Was in its length of the same quantity
That was the body ***** that caused it;
And therefore by the shadow he took his wit,                 *knowledge
That Phoebus, which that shone so clear and bright,
Degrees was five-and-forty clomb on height;
And for that day, as in that latitude,
It was ten of the clock, he gan conclude;
And suddenly he plight
his horse about.                     pulled

"Lordings," quoth he, "I warn you all this rout
,               company
The fourthe partie of this day is gone.
Now for the love of God and of Saint John
Lose no time, as farforth as ye may.
Lordings, the time wasteth night and day,
And steals from us, what privily sleeping,
And what through negligence in our waking,
As doth the stream, that turneth never again,
Descending from the mountain to the plain.
Well might Senec, and many a philosopher,
Bewaile time more than gold in coffer.
For loss of chattels may recover'd be,
But loss of time shendeth
us, quoth he.                       destroys

It will not come again, withoute dread,

No more than will Malkin's maidenhead,
When she hath lost it in her wantonness.
Let us not moulde thus in idleness.
"Sir Man of Law," quoth he, "so have ye bliss,
Tell us a tale anon, as forword* is.                        the bargain
Ye be submitted through your free assent
To stand in this case at my judgement.
Acquit you now, and *holde your behest
;             keep your promise
Then have ye done your devoir* at the least."                      duty
"Hoste," quoth he, "de par dieux jeo asente;
To breake forword is not mine intent.
Behest is debt, and I would hold it fain,
All my behest; I can no better sayn.
For such law as a man gives another wight,
He should himselfe usen it by right.
Thus will our text: but natheless certain
I can right now no thrifty
tale sayn,                           worthy
But Chaucer (though he *can but lewedly
         knows but imperfectly
On metres and on rhyming craftily)
Hath said them, in such English as he can,
Of olde time, as knoweth many a man.
And if he have not said them, leve* brother,                       dear
In one book, he hath said them in another
For he hath told of lovers up and down,
More than Ovide made of mentioun
In his Epistolae, that be full old.
Why should I telle them, since they he told?
In youth he made of Ceyx and Alcyon,
And since then he hath spoke of every one
These noble wives, and these lovers eke.
Whoso that will his large volume seek
Called the Saintes' Legend of Cupid:
There may he see the large woundes wide
Of Lucrece, and of Babylon Thisbe;
The sword of Dido for the false Enee;
The tree of Phillis for her Demophon;
The plaint of Diane, and of Hermion,
Of Ariadne, and Hypsipile;
The barren isle standing in the sea;
The drown'd Leander for his fair Hero;
The teares of Helene, and eke the woe
Of Briseis, and Laodamia;
The cruelty of thee, Queen Medea,
Thy little children hanging by the halse
,                         neck
For thy Jason, that was of love so false.
Hypermnestra, Penelop', Alcest',
Your wifehood he commendeth with the best.
But certainly no worde writeth he
Of *thilke wick'
example of Canace,                       that wicked
That loved her own brother sinfully;
(Of all such cursed stories I say, Fy),
Or else of Tyrius Apollonius,
How that the cursed king Antiochus
Bereft his daughter of her maidenhead;
That is so horrible a tale to read,
When he her threw upon the pavement.
And therefore he, of full avisement,         deliberately, advisedly
Would never write in none of his sermons
Of such unkind* abominations;                                 unnatural
Nor I will none rehearse, if that I may.
But of my tale how shall I do this day?
Me were loth to be liken'd doubteless
To Muses, that men call Pierides
(Metamorphoseos  wot what I mean),
But natheless I recke not a bean,
Though I come after him with hawebake
;                        lout
I speak in prose, and let him rhymes make."
And with that word, he with a sober cheer
Began his tale, and said as ye shall hear.

Notes to the Prologue to The Man of Law's Tale

1. Plight: pulled; the word is an obsolete past tense from
"pluck."

2. No more than will Malkin's maidenhead: a proverbial saying;
which, however, had obtained fresh point from the Reeve's
Tale, to which the host doubtless refers.

3. De par dieux jeo asente: "by God, I agree".  It is
characteristic that the somewhat pompous Sergeant of Law
should couch his assent in the semi-barbarous French, then
familiar in law procedure.

4. Ceyx and Alcyon: Chaucer treats of these in the introduction
to the poem called "The Book of the Duchess."  It relates to the
death of Blanche, wife of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, the
poet's patron, and afterwards his connexion by marriage.

5. The Saintes Legend of Cupid: Now called "The Legend of
Good Women". The names of eight ladies mentioned here are
not in the "Legend" as it has come down to us; while those of
two ladies in the "legend" -- Cleopatra and Philomela -- are her
omitted.

6. Not the Muses, who had their surname from the place near
Mount Olympus where the Thracians first worshipped them; but
the nine daughters of Pierus, king of Macedonia, whom he
called the nine Muses, and who, being conquered in a contest
with the genuine sisterhood, were changed into birds.

7. Metamorphoseos:  Ovid's.

8. Hawebake: hawbuck, country lout; the common proverbial
phrase, "to put a rogue above a gentleman," may throw light on
the reading here, which is difficult.

THE TALE.

O scatheful harm, condition of poverty,
With thirst, with cold, with hunger so confounded;
To aske help thee shameth in thine hearte;
If thou none ask, so sore art thou y-wounded,
That very need unwrappeth all thy wound hid.
Maugre thine head thou must for indigence
Or steal, or beg, or borrow thy dispence
.                      expense

Thou blamest Christ, and sayst full bitterly,
He misdeparteth
riches temporal;                          allots amiss
Thy neighebour thou witest
sinfully,                           blamest
And sayst, thou hast too little, and he hath all:
"Parfay (sayst thou) sometime he reckon shall,
When that his tail shall *brennen in the glede
,      burn in the fire
For he not help'd the needful in their need."

Hearken what is the sentence of the wise:
Better to die than to have indigence.
Thy selve neighebour will thee despise,                    that same
If thou be poor, farewell thy reverence.
Yet of the wise man take this sentence,
Alle the days of poore men be wick',                      wicked, evil
Beware therefore ere thou come to that *****.                    point

If thou be poor, thy brother hateth thee,
And all thy friendes flee from thee, alas!
O riche merchants, full of wealth be ye,
O noble, prudent folk, as in this case,
Your bagges be not fill'd with ambes ace,                   two aces
But with six-cinque, that runneth for your chance;       six-five
At Christenmass well merry may ye dance.

Ye seeke land and sea for your winnings,
As wise folk ye knowen all th' estate
Of regnes;  ye be fathers of tidings,                         *kingdoms
And tales, both of peace and of debate
:                contention, war
I were right now of tales desolate
,                     barren, empty.
But that a merchant, gone in many a year,
Me taught a tale, which ye shall after hear.

In Syria whilom dwelt a company
Of chapmen rich, and thereto sad
and true,            grave, steadfast
Clothes of gold, and satins rich of hue.
That widewhere
sent their spicery,                    to distant parts
Their chaffare
was so thriftly* and so new,      wares advantageous
That every wight had dainty* to chaffare
              pleasure deal
With them, and eke to selle them their ware.

Now fell it, that the masters of that sort
Have *shapen them
to Rome for to wend,           determined, prepared
Were it for chapmanhood* or for disport,                        trading
None other message would they thither send,
But come themselves to Rome, this is the end:
And in such place as thought them a vantage
For their intent, they took their herbergage.
                  lodging

Sojourned have these merchants in that town
A certain time as fell to their pleasance:
And so befell, that th' excellent renown
Of th' emperore's daughter, Dame Constance,
Reported was, with every circumstance,
Unto these Syrian merchants in such wise,
From day to day, as I shall you devise
                          relate

This was the common voice of every man
"Our emperor of Rome, God him see
,                 look on with favour
A daughter hath, that since the the world began,
To reckon as well her goodness and beauty,
Was never such another as is she:
I pray to God in honour her sustene
,                           sustain
And would she were of all Europe the queen.

"In her is highe beauty without pride,
And youth withoute greenhood
or folly:        childishness, immaturity
To all her workes virtue is her guide;
Humbless hath slain in her all tyranny:
She is the mirror of all courtesy,
Her heart a very chamber of holiness,
Her hand minister of freedom for almess
."                   almsgiving

And all this voice was sooth, as God is true;
But now to purpose
let us turn again.                     our tale
These merchants have done freight their shippes new,
And when they have this blissful maiden seen,
Home to Syria then they went full fain,
And did their needes
, as they have done yore,     *business *formerly
And liv'd in weal; I can you say no more.                   *prosperity

Now fell it, that these merchants stood in grace
                favour
Of him that was the Soudan
of Syrie:                            Sultan
For when they came from any strange place
He would of his benigne courtesy
Make them good cheer, and busily espy
                          inquire
Tidings of sundry regnes
, for to lear
                 realms learn
The wonders that they mighte see or hear.

Amonges other thinges, specially
These merchants have him told of Dame Constance
So great nobless, in earnest so royally,
That this Soudan hath caught so great pleasance
               pleasure
To have her figure in his remembrance,
That all his lust
, and all his busy cure
,            pleasure *care
Was for to love her while his life may dure.

Paraventure in thilke* large book,                                 that
Which that men call the heaven, y-written was
With starres, when that he his birthe took,
That he for love should have his death, alas!
For in the starres, clearer than is glass,
Is written, God wot, whoso could it read,
The death of every man withoute dread.
                           doubt

In starres many a winter therebeforn
Was writ the death of Hector, Achilles,
Of Pompey, Julius, ere they were born;
The strife of Thebes; and of Hercules,
Of Samson, Turnus, and of Socrates
The death; but mennes wittes be so dull,
That no wight can well read it at the full.

This Soudan for his privy council sent,
And, *shortly of this matter for to pace
,          to pass briefly by
He hath to them declared his intent,
And told them certain, but* he might have grace             &
Colin gardait un jour les vaches de son père ;
Colin n'avait pas de bergère,
Et s'ennuyait tout seul. Le garde sort du bois :
Depuis l'aube, dit-il, je cours dans cette plaine
Après un vieux chevreuil que j'ai manqué deux fois
Et qui m'a mis tout hors d'haleine.
Il vient de passer par là-bas,
Lui répondit Colin : mais, si vous êtes las,
Reposez-vous, gardez mes vaches à ma place,
Et j'irai faire votre chasse ;
Je réponds du chevreuil. - Ma foi, je le veux bien.
Tiens, voilà mon fusil, prends avec toi mon chien,
Va le tuer. Colin s'apprête,
S'arme, appelle Sultan. Sultan, quoiqu'à regret,
Court avec lui vers la forêt.
Le chien bat les buissons ; il va, vient, sent, arrête,
Et voilà le chevreuil... Colin impatient
Tire aussitôt, manque la bête,
Et blesse le pauvre Sultan.
A la suite du chien qui crie,
Colin revient à la prairie.
Il trouve le garde ronflant ;
De vaches, point ; elles étaient volées.
Le malheureux Colin, s'arrachant les cheveux,
Parcourt en gémissant les monts et les vallées ;
Il ne voit rien. Le soir, sans vaches, tout honteux,
Colin retourne chez son père,
Et lui conte en tremblant l'affaire.
Celui-ci, saisissant un bâton de cormier,
Corrige son cher fils de ses folles idées,
Puis lui dit : chacun son métier,
Les vaches seront bien gardées.
Robert C Howard May 2016
Sinbad’s sea-battered ship was
poised on the edge of annihilation,
The Sultan's brow furrowed with curiosity,
then without warning
Scheherazade stilled her narrative
and lived to see the morning sun.

When the moon and stars next owned the sky,
Sinbad was snatched from the jaws of death
then the saga of Prince Kalandar
seized the king's soul with wonder
but Scheherazade left the tale unfinished
and sang with the birds at dawn.

Rimsky-Korsakoff  turned the pages at his desk -
consumed by Scheherazade’s charms
then etched his pen across the waiting staves:
The violin must weave her spell once more
and bassoon and oboe take the prince’s part.

Trombone and trumpet led the martial call
and all the rest enlisted for the cause.
Russian bravura fused with the seductive allure
of exotic tunes born of the dust on the silken road.

A sonic whirlwind filled Saint Paul Church,
as winds and tremolos grew to cyclonic force.
A wall of brass completed Kalandar’s tale.
capped by an exuberant clash of cymbal plates.

The silence yielded to tender violins
chanting a hymn to the princess in all her grace.
Tambourine and winds wove a tapestry
of her debonaire and most virtuous prince.

As the final pizzicato chord faded, the Sultan
turned to Scheherazade with tear-filled eyes
and beheld his immortal princess
and she her valiant and eternal prince
and so it would be as long as night preceded dawn.

She kissed away his tears of joy and whispered in his ear,
“My beloved husband, I will tell you stories forever.
Tomorrow you shall learn of the Feast at Baghdad.”
Another site I have posted on, Poetfreak.com is shutting down so I am moving some the poems here. More refugees will follow.
O horrible ! o horrible ! most horrible !
Shakespeare, Hamlet.

On a cru devoir réimprimer cette ode telle qu'elle a été composée et publiée
en juin 1826, à l'époque du désastre de Missolonghi. Il est important de se rappeler,
en la lisant, que tous les journaux d'Europe annoncèrent alors la mort de Canaris,
tué dans son brûlot par une bombe turque, devant la ville qu'il venait secourir.
Depuis, cette nouvelle fatale a été heureusement démentie.


I.

Le dôme obscur des nuits, semé d'astres sans nombre,
Se mirait dans la mer resplendissante et sombre ;
La riante Stamboul, le front d'étoiles voilé,
Semblait, couchée au bord du golfe qui l'inonde,
Entre les feux du ciel et les reflets de l'onde,
Dormir dans un globe étoilé.

On eût dit la cité dont les esprits nocturnes
Bâtissent dans les airs les palais taciturnes,
À voir ses grands harems, séjours des longs ennuis,
Ses dômes bleus, pareils au ciel qui les colore,
Et leurs mille croissants, que semblaient faire éclore
Les rayons du croissant des nuits.

L'œil distinguait les tours par leurs angles marquées,
Les maisons aux toits plats, les flèches des mosquées,
Les moresques balcons en trèfles découpés,
Les vitraux, se cachant sous des grilles discrètes,
Et les palais dorés, et comme des aigrettes
Les palmiers sur leur front groupés.

Là, de blancs minarets dont l'aiguille s'élance
Tels que des mâts d'ivoire armés d'un fer de lance ;
Là, des kiosques peints ; là, des fanaux changeants ;
Et sur le vieux sérail, que ses hauts murs décèlent,
Cent coupoles d'étain, qui dans l'ombre étincellent
Comme des casques de géants !

II.

Le sérail...! Cette nuit il tressaillait de joie.
Au son des gais tambours, sur des tapis de soie,
Les sultanes dansaient sous son lambris sacré ;
Et, tel qu'un roi couvert de ses joyaux de fête,
Superbe, il se montrait aux enfants du prophète,
De six mille têtes paré !

Livides, l'œil éteint, de noirs cheveux chargés,
Ces têtes couronnaient, sur les créneaux rangées,
Les terrasses de rose et de jasmins en fleur :
Triste comme un ami, comme lui consolante,
La lune, astre des morts, sur leur pâleur sanglante
Répandait sa douce pâleur.

Dominant le sérail, de la porte fatale
Trois d'entre elles marquaient l'ogive orientale ;
Ces têtes, que battait l'aile du noir corbeau,
Semblaient avoir reçu l'atteinte meurtrière,
L'une dans les combats, l'autre dans la prière,
La dernière dans le tombeau.

On dit qu'alors, tandis qu'immobiles comme elles,
Veillaient stupidement les mornes sentinelles,
Les trois têtes soudain parlèrent ; et leurs voix
Ressemblaient à ces chants qu'on entend dans les rêves,
Aux bruits confus du flot qui s'endort sur les grèves,
Du vent qui s'endort dans les bois !

III.

La première voix.

« Où suis-je...? mon brûlot ! à la voile ! à la rame !
Frères, Missolonghi fumante nous réclame,
Les Turcs ont investi ses remparts généreux.
Renvoyons leurs vaisseaux à leurs villes lointaines,
Et que ma torche, ô capitaines !
Soit un phare pour vous, soit un foudre pour eux !

« Partons ! Adieu Corinthe et son haut promontoire,
Mers dont chaque rocher porte un nom de victoire,
Écueils de l'Archipel sur tous les flots semés,
Belles îles, des cieux et du printemps chéries,
Qui le jour paraissez des corbeilles fleuries,
La nuit, des vases parfumés !

« Adieu, fière patrie, Hydra, Sparte nouvelle !
Ta jeune liberté par des chants se révèle ;
Des mâts voilent tes murs, ville de matelots !
Adieu ! j'aime ton île où notre espoir se fonde,
Tes gazons caressés par l'onde,
Tes rocs battus d'éclairs et rongés par les flots !

« Frères, si je reviens, Missolonghi sauvée,
Qu'une église nouvelle au Christ soit élevée.
Si je meurs, si je tombe en la nuit sans réveil,
Si je verse le sang qui me reste à répandre,
Dans une terre libre allez porter ma cendre,
Et creusez ma tombe au soleil !

« Missolonghi ! - Les Turcs ! - Chassons, ô camarades,
Leurs canons de ses forts, leurs flottes de ses rades.
Brûlons le capitan sous son triple canon.
Allons ! que des brûlots l'ongle ardent se prépare.
Sur sa nef, si je m'en empare,
C'est en lettres de feu que j'écrirai mon nom.

« Victoire ! amis...! - Ô ciel ! de mon esquif agile
Une bombe en tombant brise le pont fragile...
Il éclate, il tournoie, il s'ouvre aux flots amers !
Ma bouche crie en vain, par les vagues couverte !
Adieu ! je vais trouver mon linceul d'algue verte,
Mon lit de sable au fond des mers.

« Mais non ! Je me réveille enfin...! Mais quel mystère ?
Quel rêve affreux...! mon bras manque à mon cimeterre.
Quel est donc près de moi ce sombre épouvantail ?
Qu'entends-je au ****...? des chœurs... sont-ce des voix de femmes ?
Des chants murmurés par des âmes ?
Ces concerts...! suis-je au ciel ? - Du sang... c'est le sérail ! »

IV.

La deuxième voix.

« Oui, Canaris, tu vois le sérail et ma tête
Arrachée au cercueil pour orner cette fête.
Les Turcs m'ont poursuivi sous mon tombeau glacé.
Vois ! ces os desséchés sont leur dépouille opime :
Voilà de Botzaris ce qu'au sultan sublime
Le ver du sépulcre a laissé !

« Écoute : Je dormais dans le fond de ma tombe,
Quand un cri m'éveilla : Missolonghi succombe !
Je me lève à demi dans la nuit du trépas ;
J'entends des canons sourds les tonnantes volées,
Les clameurs aux clameurs mêlées,
Les chocs fréquents du fer, le bruit pressé des pas.

« J'entends, dans le combat qui remplissait la ville,
Des voix crier : « Défends d'une horde servile,
Ombre de Botzaris, tes Grecs infortunés ! »
Et moi, pour m'échapper, luttant dans les ténèbres,
J'achevais de briser sur les marbres funèbres
Tous mes ossements décharnés.

« Soudain, comme un volcan, le sol s'embrase et gronde... -
Tout se tait ; - et mon œil ouvert pour l'autre monde
Voit ce que nul vivant n'eût pu voir de ses yeux.
De la terre, des flots, du sein profond des flammes,
S'échappaient des tourbillons d'âmes
Qui tombaient dans l'abîme ou s'envolaient aux cieux !

« Les Musulmans vainqueurs dans ma tombe fouillèrent ;
Ils mêlèrent ma tête aux vôtres qu'ils souillèrent.
Dans le sac du Tartare on les jeta sans choix.
Mon corps décapité tressaillit d'allégresse ;
Il me semblait, ami, pour la Croix et la Grèce
Mourir une seconde fois.

« Sur la terre aujourd'hui notre destin s'achève.
Stamboul, pour contempler cette moisson du glaive,
Vile esclave, s'émeut du Fanar aux Sept-Tours ;
Et nos têtes, qu'on livre aux publiques risées,
Sur l'impur sérail exposées,
Repaissent le sultan, convive des vautours !

« Voilà tous nos héros ! Costas le palicare ;
Christo, du mont Olympe ; Hellas, des mers d'Icare ;
Kitzos, qu'aimait Byron, le poète immortel ;
Et cet enfant des monts, notre ami, notre émule,
Mayer, qui rapportait aux fils de Thrasybule
La flèche de Guillaume Tell !

« Mais ces morts inconnus, qui dans nos rangs stoïques
Confondent leurs fronts vils à des fronts héroïques,
Ce sont des fils maudits d'Eblis et de Satan,
Des Turcs, obscur troupeau, foule au sabre asservie,
Esclaves dont on prend la vie,
Quand il manque une tête au compte du sultan !

« Semblable au Minotaure inventé par nos pères,
Un homme est seul vivant dans ces hideux repaires,
Qui montrent nos lambeaux aux peuples à genoux ;
Car les autres témoins de ces fêtes fétides,
Ses eunuques impurs, ses muets homicides,
Ami, sont aussi morts que nous.

« Quels sont ces cris...? - C'est l'heure où ses plaisirs infâmes
Ont réclamé nos sœurs, nos filles et nos femmes.
Ces fleurs vont se flétrir à son souffle inhumain.
Le tigre impérial, rugissant dans sa joie,
Tour à tour compte chaque proie,
Nos vierges cette nuit, et nos têtes demain ! »

V.

La troisième voix.

« Ô mes frères ! Joseph, évêque, vous salue.
Missolonghi n'est plus ! À sa mort résolue,
Elle a fui la famine et son venin rongeur.
Enveloppant les Turcs dans son malheur suprême,
Formidable victime, elle a mis elle-même
La flamme à son bûcher vengeur.

« Voyant depuis vingt jours notre ville affamée,
J'ai crié : « Venez tous ; il est temps, peuple, armée !
Dans le saint sacrifice il faut nous dire adieu.
Recevez de mes mains, à la table céleste,
Le seul aliment qui nous reste,
Le pain qui nourrit l'âme et la transforme en dieu ! »

« Quelle communion ! Des mourants immobiles,
Cherchant l'hostie offerte à leurs lèvres débiles,
Des soldats défaillants, mais encor redoutés,
Des femmes, des vieillards, des vierges désolées,
Et sur le sein flétri des mères mutilées
Des enfants de sang allaités !

« La nuit vint, on partit ; mais les Turcs dans les ombres
Assiégèrent bientôt nos morts et nos décombres.
Mon église s'ouvrit à leurs pas inquiets.
Sur un débris d'autel, leur dernière conquête,
Un sabre fit rouler ma tête...
J'ignore quelle main me frappa : je priais.

« Frères, plaignez Mahmoud ! Né dans sa loi barbare,
Des hommes et de Dieu son pouvoir le sépare.
Son aveugle regard ne s'ouvre pas au ciel.
Sa couronne fatale, et toujours chancelante,
Porte à chaque fleuron une tête sanglante ;
Et peut-être il n'est pas cruel !

« Le malheureux, en proie, aux terreurs implacables,
Perd pour l'éternité ses jours irrévocables.
Rien ne marque pour lui les matins et les soirs.
Toujours l'ennui ! Semblable aux idoles qu'ils dorent,
Ses esclaves de **** l'adorent,
Et le fouet d'un spahi règle leurs encensoirs.

« Mais pour vous tout est joie, honneur, fête, victoire.
Sur la terre vaincus, vous vaincrez dans l'histoire.
Frères, Dieu vous bénit sur le sérail fumant.
Vos gloires par la mort ne sont pas étouffées :
Vos têtes sans tombeaux deviennent vos trophées ;
Vos débris sont un monument !

« Que l'apostat surtout vous envie ! Anathème
Au chrétien qui souilla l'eau sainte du baptême !
Sur le livre de vie en vain il fut compté :
Nul ange ne l'attend dans les cieux où nous sommes ;
Et son nom, exécré des hommes,
Sera, comme un poison, des bouches rejeté !

« Et toi, chrétienne Europe, entends nos voix plaintives.
Jadis, pour nous sauver, saint Louis vers nos rives
Eût de ses chevaliers guidé l'arrière-ban.
Choisis enfin, avant que ton Dieu ne se lève,
De Jésus et d'Omar, de la croix et du glaive,
De l'auréole et du turban. »

VI.

Oui, Botzaris, Joseph, Canaris, ombres saintes,
Elle entendra vos voix, par le trépas éteintes ;
Elle verra le signe empreint sur votre front ;
Et soupirant ensemble un chant expiatoire,
À vos débris sanglants portant leur double gloire,
Sur la harpe et le luth les deux Grèces diront :

« Hélas ! vous êtes saints et vous êtes sublimes,
Confesseurs, demi-dieux, fraternelles victimes !
Votre bras aux combats s'est longtemps signalé ;
Morts, vous êtes tous trois souillés par des mains viles.
Voici votre Calvaire après vos Thermopyles ;
Pour tous les dévouements votre sang a coulé !

« Ah ! si l'Europe en deuil, qu'un sang si pur menace,
Ne suit jusqu'au sérail le chemin qu'il lui trace,
Le Seigneur la réserve à d'amers repentirs.
Marin, prêtre, soldat, nos autels vous demandent ;
Car l'Olympe et le Ciel à la fois vous attendent,
Pléiade de héros ! Trinité de martyrs ! »

Juin 1826.
I.

Canaris ! Canaris ! pleure ! cent vingt vaisseaux !
Pleure ! Une flotte entière ! - Où donc, démon des eaux,
Où donc était ta main hardie ?
Se peut-il que sans toi l'ottoman succombât ?
Pleure ! comme Crillon exilé d'un combat,
Tu manquais à cet incendie !

Jusqu'ici, quand parfois la vague de tes mers
Soudain s'ensanglantait, comme un lac des enfers,
D'une lueur large et profonde,
Si quelque lourd navire éclatait à nos yeux
Couronné tout à coup d'une aigrette de feux,
Comme un volcan s'ouvrant dans l'onde ;

Si la lame roulait turbans, sabres courbés,
Voiles, tentes, croissants des mâts rompus tombés,
Vestiges de flotte et d'armée,
Pelisses de vizirs, sayons de matelots,
Rebuts stigmatisés de la flamme et des flots,
Blancs d'écume et noirs de fumée ;

Si partait de ces mers d'Egine ou d'Iolchos
Un bruit d'explosion, tonnant dans mille échos
Et roulant au **** dans l'espace,
L'Europe se tournait vers le rougo Orient ;
Et, sur la poupe assis, le nocher souriant
Disait : - C'est Canaris qui passe !

Jusqu'ici quand brûlaient au sein des flots fumants
Les capitans-pachas avec leurs armements,
Leur flotte dans l'ombre engourdie,
On te reconnaissait à ce terrible jeu ;
Ton brûlot expliquant tous ces vaisseaux en feu ;
Ta torche éclairait l'incendie !

Mais pleure aujourd'hui, pleure, on s'est battu sans toi !
Pourquoi, sans Canaris, sur ces flottes, pourquoi
Porter la guerre et ses tempêtes ?
Du Dieu qui garde Hellé n'est-il plus le bras droit ?
On aurait dû l'attendre ! Et n'est-il pas de droit
Convive de toutes ces fêtes ?

II.

Console-toi ! la Grèce est libre.
Entre les bourreaux, les mourants,
L'Europe a remis l'équilibre ;
Console-toi ! plus de tyrans !
La France combat : le sort change.
Souffre que sa main qui vous venge
Du moins te dérobe en échange
Une feuille de ton laurier.
Grèces de Byron et d'Homère,
Toi, notre sœur, toi, notre mère,
Chantez ! si votre voix amère
Ne s'est pas éteinte à crier.

Pauvre Grèce, qu'elle était belle,
Pour être couchée au tombeau !
Chaque vizir de la rebelle
S'arrachait un sacré lambeau.
Où la fable mit ses ménades,
Où l'amour eut ses sérénades,
Grondaient les sombres canonnades
Sapant les temps du vrai Dieu ;
Le ciel de cette terre aimée
N'avait, sous sa voûte embaumée,
De nuages que la fumée
De toutes ses villes en feu.

Voilà six ans qu'ils l'ont choisie !
Six ans qu'on voyait accourir
L'Afrique au secours de l'Asie
Contre un peuple instruit à mourir.
Ibrahim, que rien ne modère,
Vole de l'Isthme au Belvédère,
Comme un faucon qui n'a plus d'aire,
Comme un loup qui règne au bercail ;
Il court où le butin le tente,
Et lorsqu'il retourne à sa tente,
Chaque fois sa main dégouttante
Jette des têtes au sérail !

III.

Enfin ! - C'est Navarin, la ville aux maisons peintes,
La ville aux dômes d'or, la blanche Navarin,
Sur la colline assise entre les térébinthes,
Qui prête son beau golfe aux ardentes étreintes
De deux flottes heurtant leurs carènes d'airain.

Les voilà toutes deux ! - La mer en est chargée,
Prête à noyer leurs feux, prête à boire leur sang.
Chacune par son dieu semble au combat rangée ;
L'une s'étend en croix sur les flots allongée,
L'autre ouvre ses bras lourds et se courbe en croissant.

Ici, l'Europe : enfin ! l'Europe qu'on déchaîne,
Avec ses grands vaisseaux voguant comme des tours.
Là, l'Egypte des Turcs, cette Asie africaine,
Ces vivaces forbans, mal tués par Duquesne,
Qui mit en vain le pied sur ces nids de vautours.

IV.

Ecoutez ! - Le canon gronde.
Il est temps qu'on lui réponde.
Le patient est le fort.
Eclatent donc les bordées !
Sur ces nefs intimidées,
Frégates, jetez la mort !
Et qu'au souffle de vos bouches
Fondent ces vaisseaux farouches,
Broyés aux rochers du port !

La bataille enfin s'allume.
Tout à la fois tonne et fume.
La mort vole où nous frappons.
Là, tout brûle pêle-mêle.
Ici, court le brûlot frêle
Qui jette aux mâts ses crampons
Et, comme un chacal dévore
L'éléphant qui lutte encore,
Ronge un navire à trois ponts.

- L'abordage ! l'abordage ! -
On se suspend au cordage,
On s'élance des haubans.
La poupe heurte la proue.
La mêlée a dans sa roue
Rameurs courbés sur leurs bancs
Fantassins cherchant la terre,
L'épée et le cimeterre,
Les casques et les turbans.

La vergue aux vergues s'attache ;
La torche insulte à la hache ;
Tout s'attaque en même temps.
Sur l'abîme la mort nage.
Epouvantable carnage !
Champs de bataille flottants
Qui, battus de cent volées,
S'écroulent sous les mêlées,
Avec tous les combattants.

V.

Lutte horrible ! Ah ! quand l'homme, à l'étroit sur la terre,
Jusque sur l'Océan précipite la guerre,
Le sol tremble sous lui, tandis qu'il se débat.
La mer, la grande mer joue avec ses batailles.
Vainqueurs, vaincus, à tous elle ouvre ses entrailles.
Le naufrage éteint le combat.

Ô spectacle ! Tandis que l'Afrique grondante
Bat nos puissants vaisseaux de sa flotte imprudente,
Qu'elle épuise à leurs flancs sa rage et ses efforts,
Chacun d'eux, géant fier, sur ces hordes bruyantes,
Ouvrant à temps égaux ses gueules foudroyantes,
***** tranquillement la mort de tous ses bords.

Tout s'embrase : voyez ! l'eau de centre est semée,
Le vent aux mâts en flamme arrache la fumée,
Le feu sur les tillacs s'abat en ponts mouvants.
Déjà brûlent les nefs ; déjà, sourde et profonde,
La flamme en leurs flancs noirs ouvre un passage à l'onde ;
Déjà, sur les ailes des vents,

L'incendie, attaquant la frégate amirale,
Déroule autour des mâts sont ardente spirale,
Prend les marins hurlants dans ses brûlants réseaux,
Couronne de ses jets la poupe inabordable,
Triomphe, et jette au **** un reflet formidable
Qui tremble, élargissant ses cercles sur les eaux.

VI.

Où sont, enfants du Caire,
Ces flottes qui naguère
Emportaient à la guerre
Leurs mille matelots ?
Ces voiles, où sont-elles,
Qu'armaient les infidèles,
Et qui prêtaient leurs ailes
A l'ongle des brûlots ?

Où sont tes mille antennes,
Et tes hunes hautaines,
Et tes fiers capitaines,
Armada du sultan ?
Ta ruine commence,
Toi qui, dans ta démence,
Battais les mers, immense
Comme Léviathan !

Le capitan qui tremble
Voit éclater ensemble
Ces chébecs que rassemble
Alger ou Tetuan.
Le feu vengeur embrasse
Son vaisseau dont la masse
Soulève, quand il passe,
Le fond de l'Océan.

Sur les mers irritées,
Dérivent, démâtées,
Nefs par les nefs heurtées,
Yachts aux mille couleurs,
Galères capitanes,
Caïques et tartanes
Qui portaient aux sultanes
Des têtes et des fleurs.

Adieu, sloops intrépides,
Adieu, jonques rapides,
Qui sur les eaux limpides
Berçaient les icoglans !
Adieu la goëlette
Dont la vague reflète
Le flamboyant squelette,
Noir dans les feux sanglants !

Adieu la barcarolle
Dont l'humble banderole
Autour des vaisseaux vole,
Et qui, peureuse, fuit,
Quand du souffle des brises
Les frégates surprises,
Gonflant leurs voiles grises,
Déferlent à grand bruit !

Adieu la caravelle
Qu'une voile nouvelle
Aux yeux de **** révèle ;
Adieu le dogre ailé,
Le brick dont les amures
Rendent de sourds murmures,
Comme un amas d'armures
Par le vent ébranlé !

Adieu la brigantine,
Dont la voile latine
Du flot qui se mutine
Fend les vallons amers !
Adieu la balancelle
Qui sur l'onde chancelle,
Et, comme une étincelle,
Luit sur l'azur des mers !

Adieu lougres difformes,
Galéaces énormes,
Vaisseaux de toutes formes,
Vaisseaux de tous climats,
L'yole aux triples flammes,
Les mahonnes, les prames,
La felouque à six rames,
La polacre à deux mâts !

Chaloupe canonnières !
Et lanches marinières
Où flottaient les bannières
Du pacha souverain !
Bombardes que la houle,
Sur son front qui s'écroule,
Soulève, emporte et roule
Avec un bruit d'airain !

Adieu, ces nefs bizarres,
Caraques et gabarres,
Qui de leurs cris barbares
Troublaient Chypre et Délos !
Que sont donc devenues
Ces flottes trop connues ?
La mer les jette aux nues,
Le ciel les rend aux flots !

VII.

Silence ! Tout est fait. Tout retombe à l'abîme.
L'écume des hauts mâts a recouvert la cime.
Des vaisseaux du sultan les flots se sont joués.
Quelques-uns, bricks rompus, prames désemparées,
Comme l'algue des eaux qu'apportent les marées,
Sur la grève noircie expirent échoués.

Ah ! c'est une victoire ! - Oui, l'Afrique défaite,
Le vrai Dieu sous ses pieds foulant le faux prophète,
Les tyrans, les bourreaux criant grâce à leur tour,
Ceux qui meurent enfin sauvés par ceux qui règnent,
Hellé lavant ses flancs qui saignent,
Et six ans vengés dans un jour !

Depuis assez longtemps les peuples disaient : « Grèce !
Grèce ! Grèce ! tu meurs. Pauvre peuple en détresse,
A l'horizon en feu chaque jour tu décroîs.
En vain, pour te sauver, patrie illustre et chère,
Nous réveillons le prêtre endormi dans sa chaire,
En vain nous mendions une armée à nos rois.

« Mais les rois restent sourds, les chaires sont muettes.
Ton nom n'échauffe ici que des cœurs de poètes.
A la gloire, à la vie on demande tes droits.
A la croix grecque, Hellé, ta valeur se confie.
C'est un peuple qu'on crucifie !
Qu'importe, hélas ! sur quelle croix !

« Tes dieux s'en vont aussi. Parthénon, Propylées,
Murs de Grèce, ossements des villes mutilées,
Vous devenez une arme aux mains des mécréants.
Pour battre ses vaisseaux du haut des Dardanelles,
Chacun de vos débris, ruines solennelles,
Donne un boulet de marbre à leurs canons géants ! »

Qu'on change cette plainte en joyeuse fanfare !
Une rumeur surgit de l'Isthme jusqu'au Phare.
Regardez ce ciel noir plus beau qu'un ciel serein.
Le vieux colosse turc sur l'Orient retombe,
La Grèce est libre, et dans la tombe
Byron applaudit Navarin.

Salut donc, Albion, vieille reine des ondes !
Salut, aigle des czars qui planes sur deux mondes !
Gloire à nos fleurs de lys, dont l'éclat est si beau !
L'Angleterre aujourd'hui reconnaît sa rivale.
Navarin la lui rend. Notre gloire navale
A cet embrasement rallume son flambeau.

Je te retrouve, Autriche ! - Oui, la voilà, c'est elle !
Non pas ici, mais là, - dans la flotte infidèle.
Parmi les rangs chrétiens en vain on te cherchera.
Nous surprenons, honteuse et la tête penchée,
Ton aigle au double front cachée
Sous les crinières d'un pacha !

C'est bien ta place, Autriche ! - On te voyait naguère
Briller près d'Ibrahim, ce Tamerlan vulgaire ;
Tu dépouillais les morts qu'il foulait en passant ;
Tu l'admirais, mêlée aux eunuques serviles
Promenant au hasard sa torche dans les villes,
Horrible et n'éteignant le feu qu'avec du sang.

Tu préférais ces feux aux clartés de l'aurore.
Aujourd'hui qu'à leur tour la flamme enfin dévore
Ses noirs vaisseaux, vomis des ports égyptiens,
Rouvre les yeux, regarde, Autriche abâtardie !
Que dis-tu de cet incendie ?
Est-il aussi beau que les siens ?

Le 23 novembre 1827.
Mahatma Jones Feb 2015
My friend Gerard, (who is alive), looks like an Arabian slave-boy, though swarthier and longer of hair than Tony Curtis; an olive –skinned Mowgli, ape boy of Kipling’s  “Jungle Book”, although I have never seen Gerard swinging through any trees, nor eating any insects, nor even kissing a sultan’s foot. But looks can be deceiving, or receiving, with the proper pen, the zen pen of a poet, this proper poet who lives upstairs with his multitude of books piled on the floors, walking on Whitman, sitting on Shakespeare; tripping over Ginsberg, sleeping on Sartre; not a single shelf for this Jung man.
“A place for everything, and for everything it’s place”, he stands and stares out of a window overlooking the jungle of five-foot high weeds that serves as our backyard and wonders aloud “whither Oregon?”; questions our alleged enlightened sense of awareness, his disposition toward liberalness in a world gone madder than usual. Have I convinced him yet, my naïve, trusting neighbor? Yes, he realizes with a sigh that it is so, now that he has finally succumbed and bought a thirteen inch, black & white television of his own, now he can see with his own brown eyes in his own living room, far off wars, instant coffee & instant karma, depersonalized tragedies, faceless fatalities, insidious soap operas and humorless sitcoms, adverse advertisements, Howard Stern; “whither sanity?” we both cry and laugh out loud at this mediocre media, the global sewage, the Marshall McClueless, me and Gerard Rizza, my friend who is alive.

Gerard, (who is healthy), is gay, yet straighter than most men, and has been complaining quite a bit about the ferry service lately; contemplating a move off of Staten Island, and leaving his sporadic substitute teaching gig at a nearby high school, a mere six block walk from our house atop Winter Hill, where he is trying to convince me, a wide-eyed cynic, that a blank, white, unused canvas, surrounded by a wooden picture frame hung upon his wall is indeed a work of art; the job is very convenient, but again the ******* about the ferry, not the boat ride per se, but the incongruities of the ****** schedule, which anybody who has ever just missed a three a.m. boat and had to wait for an hour in the Hierynomous Bosch triptych known as the Whitehall Ferry terminal ,will definitely attest to; and Gerard has this thing about Staten Islanders, like the homophobes at a recent anti-peace rally in New Dorp, supporting the carpet bombing of an oil rich yet still poor third-world country, throwing beer cans at him and his companions while shouting “we know where you live, *******!”. Rizz came home that evening, visibly shaken and pale, (not his usual olive-skinned self), knocked on my door and pleaded “whither ******?”. I went upstairs, sat on his couch and rolled a joint. Gerard puts on the new 10,000 Maniacs tape and tries, once again, to bait me in a conversation about his “work of art”, my work of naught; he speaks of the horrific details of his day. “Isn’t this picture of Doc Gooden on my refrigerator door proof enough of my manhood, my patriotic intent, for those *******? The ******’ Mets, fuh chrissakes!” We sit out on his porch, watching the sun set over our backyard jungle as Natalie sings wireless Verdi cries, and I pass the burning joint to Gerard, my friend who is still healthy.

My friend Gerard, who is *** positive, was quite possibly a cat in a former life, probably a Siamese, thin, dark and aloof; yes, I can see ol’ Rizz now, sprawled out on an old tapestry rug, getting his belly scratched by his owner, perhaps Emily Dickinson or Georgia O’Keefe, Rizz purring like the engine of an old bi-winged barnstormer; abruptly rolls over, gets on all fours, tail waving *****, slinks over to lap water out of a bowl marked “Gerard”. He’d sleep all day on books and original manuscripts, and play all night amongst oil & acrylic, knocking over an occasional blank canvas, which he, in a future incarnation, will try to convince me, in his feline manner, is art. Sitting and staring from his usual spot on the windowsill, his cat eyes blink slowly as he wonders, “whither dinner?”; and begins to clean himself with tongue and paw, this cat who might be Gerard, my friend who is *** positive.

Gerard, who is sick, recently moved to Manhattan, Chelsea, to be precise, in with his best friend; and has stopped ******* about the Staten Island ferry, having far more pressing matters to ***** about, i.e. the ever-rising cost of homeopathic medicine and the lack of coverage for holistic and alternative care; any number of political and social concerns (Gerard was never the silent type); the lateness of his first published book of poems, entitled “Regard for Junction”; his rapidly deteriorating health, etc., etc.; and is now a true city dweller, a zen denizen, a proper poet with high regard for junction. That’s all that remains when it’s all over anyway, this junction, that junction, petticoat junction, petticoat junction – “I always wanted to **** the brunette sister”, I’d once told him; “I prefer uncle Joe!”, he laughingly replied; dejection, rejection, reclamation, defamation, cremation, conjecture, conjunction, all junctions happening at the same time, at now, a single place, a single moment, this forever junction with Gerard, my friend who is dying.

My friend Gerard, who is dead, officially passed from this life on a Saturday morning in early April, a mere two weeks before his junction with publication, although Gerard my friend passed away much earlier, leaving a sick and emaciated body behind to play host to his bedside guests, to help bear the pain of his family and friends; so doped-up on morphine, no longer able to remember any names, he called me “*****” when I entered the hospital room, where this barely physical manifestation of what had once been Gerard Rizza was being kept alive like the barest glimmer of hope, and displayed like some recently fallen leader, lying in state;  “whither Gerard withers” I thought, saying goodbye to this Rizza impersonator, this imposter, this visitor from a shadow world, an abstraction of a friend, whom the nurses told us, his disbelieving visitors, was our friend Gerard, who though technically still alive, was already dead.

My friend Gerard, who is laughing
My friend Gerard, who is singing
My friend Gerard, who is coughing
My friend Gerard, who is sleeping
My friend Gerard, who is holy
My friend Gerard, who is missed.
(c) 1994 PreMortem Publishing
Fred Feb 2018
There are three versions of this poem. only one of them is available on the internet. This first version is from the New Yorker in a 1941 issue. It is the earliest version and the one that is quoted all over the internet.

To My Valentine

    by Ogden Nash (1902-1971)

More than a catbird hates a cat,
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or the Axis hates the United States,
That's how much I love you.

I love you more than a duck can swim,
And more than a grapefruit squirts,
I love you more than gin rummy is a bore,
And more than a toothache hurts.

As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a hostess detests unexpected guests,
That's how much you I love.

I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than the subway jerks,
I love you as much as a beggar needs a crutch,
And more than a hangnail irks.

I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As the High Court loathes perjurious oaths,
That's how you're loved by me.

The next version is the lyric of a song from the Broadway musical "One Touch of Venus" (1943) by Ogden Nash, J S Perelman and Kurt Weill. Nash wrote this lyric. It is not on the internet that I could find. I got it from the sheet music.

HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU

More than a catbird hates a cat,
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or the Axis hates the United States,
That's how much I love you.

As a sailor's sweetheart hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a wife detests unexpected guests,
That's how much you I love.

I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than a hangnail hurts.
I love you more than commercials are a bore,
And more than a grapefruit squirts.

I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As a bride would resent a blessed event,
That's how you are loved by me.

More than a waitress hates to wait ,
Or a lioness hates the zoo,
Or a batter dislikes those called third strikes,
That's how much I love you.

As much as a lifeguard hates to swim,
Or a writer hates to read,
As Hays office frowns on low cut gowns,
That's how much you I need.


I love you more than a hive can itch,
And more than a chilblain chills.
I yearn for you in an ivy clad igloo,
As a liver yearns for pills.

I swear to you by the stars above,
And below, if such there be,
As a dachshund abhors revolving doors,
That's how you are loved by me.

The third is from the book "Marriage Lines: notes of a student husband" It was published in 1964 and contains a revised version of the poem with a much different ending. This too is not on the internet. I got it from the book.

TO MY VALENTINE

More than a catbird hates a cat,
Or a criminal hates a clue,
Or an odalisque hates the Sultan's mates,
That's how much I love you.

I love you more than a duck can swim,
And more than a grapefruit squirts,
I love you more than commercials are a bore,
And more than a toothache hurts.

As a shipwrecked sailor hates the sea,
Or a juggler hates a shove,
As a hostess detests unexpected guests,
That's how much you I love.

I love you more than a wasp can sting,
And more than the subway jerks,
I love you truer than a toper loves a brewer,
And more than a hangnail irks.

I love you more than a bronco bucks,
Or a Yale man cheers the Blue.
Ask not what is this thing called love;
It's what I'm in with you.
Hope you enjoy comparing these three. They all have their virtues but I prefer the last. I feel the ending is the best and the truest sentiment.
Cné Jan 2018
If I could have you for a night
I’d stop the dawn from bringing light
I’d make the stars stay out and play
And make the moon hold back the day

If I could have you in my arms
I’d unleash my southern charms
I’d unlock every fantasy
And be all that you want of me

If I could have you in my bed
With sweet seduction you’d be fed
I’d give you treats and pleasured sighs
And let you taste of sugared thighs

I’d make you glutton of this feast
Your every whim would be released
I’d let you do just what you will
And let your body ******* thrill

I’d bind you up, and make you crave
And tease your sights and make you slave
Then I would let you conquer me
And stake your claim of victory

I’d bathe your body, lick you dry
In covered dreams I’d let you lie
Then gently I would make you wake
My hungry love to satiate

I’d dance before you, undulate
You’d reach for me, I’d hesitate
I’d belly dance before your eyes
Your harem girl, in veiled disguise

My sultan, I’d be bound to do
just everything you’d want me to
I’d let you take me one more time
In candle light, you'd be just mine

Each moment tasting of divine
My every kiss dipped in sublime
My every touch would bring delight
If I had you for just one night
Next, then, the peacock, gilt
With all its feathers. Look, what gorgeous dyes
Flow in the eyes!
And how deep, lustrous greens are splashed and spilt
Along the back, that like a sea-wave's crest
Scatters soft beauty o'er th' emblazoned breast!

A strange fowl! But most fit
For feasts like this, whereby I honor one
Pure as the sun!
Yet glowing with the fiery zeal of it!
Some wine? Your goblet's empty? Let it foam!
It is not often that you come to Rome!

You like the Venice glass?
Rippled with lines that float like women's curls,
Neck like a girl's,
Fierce-glowing as a chalice in the Mass?
You start -- 'twas artist then, not Pope who spoke!
Ave Maria stella! -- ah, it broke!

'Tis said they break alone
When poison writhes within. A foolish tale!
What, you look pale?
Caraffa, fetch a silver cup! . . . You own
A Birth of Venus, now -- or so I've heard,
Lovely as the breast-plumage of a bird.

Also a Dancing Faun,
Hewn with the lithe grace of Praxiteles;
Globed pearls to please
A sultan; golden veils that drop like lawn --
How happy I could be with but a tithe
Of your possessions, fortunate one! Don't writhe

But take these cushions here!
Now for the fruit! Great peaches, satin-skinned,
Rough tamarind,
Pomegranates red as lips -- oh they come dear!
But men like you we feast at any price --
A plum perhaps? They're looking rather nice!

I'll cut the thing in half.
There's yours! Now, with a one-side-poisoned knife
One might ***** life
And leave one's friend with -- "fool" for epitaph!
An old trick? Truth! But when one has the itch
For pretty things and isn't very rich. . . .

There, eat it all or I'll
Be angry! You feel giddy? Well, it's hot!
This bergamot
Take home and smell -- it purges blood of bile!
And when you kiss Bianca's dimpled knee,
Think of the poor Pope in his misery!

Now you may kiss my ring!
** there, the Cardinal's litter! -- You must dine
When the new wine
Is in, again with me -- hear Bice sing,
Even admire my frescoes -- though they're nought
Beside the calm Greek glories you have bought!

Godspeed, Sir Cardinal!
And take a weak man's blessing! Help him there
To the cool air! . . .
Lucrezia here? You're ready for the ball?
-- He'll die within ten hours, I suppose --
Mhm! Kiss your poor old father, little rose!
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2009
The stink of fish on earthen streets
A hot wind blows from ochre hills
Black faces shine with brilliant teeth
Street market ***** doth cure all ills.
Redness in her plaited hair
Rhythm in her steady tread
A harmony of balance, she carries
Water jars on her head.
A market girl is singing
As she sits among bananas
The drama in her music
Is as dusty as the street,
It fills the air with magic
As it lilts above street chatter
In the atmosphere of Africa
Where new and ancient meet.


The goat boy herds his docile flock
Through camel trains and bales
The steamer tethered at the dock
Announces that she sails
With billowed steam and mournful wail
It echoes through the town
And the planter and his agent
Bargain with a harried frown.
The bleating of the goat herd
And the stench of fish and dung
Is as ordinary as Africa
In the searing mid day sun.


Zanzibar is spices, Zanzibar is Stone.
Club Zanzibar is whiskey on the rocks
Consumed alone
Or shared upon the balcony
In the shadow of a palm
With the turquoise Indian ocean
Reaching out beyond the arm.
Do you see the dhows are sailing?
Do you see the fishing nets?
Do you hear the oarsmen chanting?
Did you see black muscle flex?
Have you watched the dripping sweat
Cascade on alabaster brow?
Have you inhaled the scent of Africa
And allowed it to allow?



Colobus monkeys in the treetops
Narrow lanes in the bazaar
Dull white walls adorn stone buildings
And the rupee is by far
The favorite tenure of the Island
Since the days when slaves were sold
By Arab camel caravaners
Who traded coin for young black gold.
East and west collide in concert
Africa and Asia blend
The Sultan's mix of race and spice
In Zanzibar, beyond lands end.


Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
3rd June 2008
- From Watching the Ripples Radiate
Narayan Mar 2013
I sleep on the green grass watchin the blue sky..
So wen i fall asleep i can dream that i can fly..
they say we see wots there in our field of vision..
but i believe we can see beyond that in our field of dream..

i wonder where do the stars go during the day..
They go to sleep when the sun is all gay..
N guard us all through the night..
So we can sleep tight without fright..

in one lost morning i woke up with caress of sunray..
silehoutted by the fragrance of morning far from reach of day..
I felt lighter free from sorrow..
I wished if there were no tomorrow..

i stretched my arms wide to draw the morning air into my sleeping lungs..
Surprised by the white feathers flying around me as they show in the songs..
calling me to chase them in the wind n collect them inside my books..
But that night i dun remember dreaming eagles n hawks..

i tried to walk but i felt as if i'm floating..
Am i sleep-walking or jus pretending as boating..
I looked back n almost had a heart attack when i see i had two big wings..
Am i superhero or the sultan of swings?

i ran and ran so no1 cud see me in these forms..
i knw they hav just watched x-men returns..
I climbed up the cliff all day and night as they do in lord of the rings until they die..
I am at the top, is it where the body catches a body coming thru the rye?

i cud see the ocean falling in love with deep blue sky..
Is it the place where the pink floyd first learnt to fly..
Is it the neverland to where jhonny took kate's children?..
Is it the new matrix sati made for neo for his return..

i decided to fly so i jumped off the cliff..
it felt as if i m moving through great barrier reef..
Windswept fields n ever-flowing rivers..
No navigation but i followed the migrating seabirds..

above was the albatross below everything was submarine..
tides jumped high to touch n pull me in..
The echoes of tides made me feel the beaches were not yet encroached..
The silent love between land and water was not yet reproached..

After the sea i flew over the cities..
suspended animation what they call it is..
wondered how big buildings look like small boxes of dough..
Learnt, everything seems small if u rise above enough..

then i cud see black rings of smoke..
Somewhere below river was black as coke..
I cud see people gathered in dark houses planning wars..
People restricted from their happiness behind the bars..

i thought i wil b the guardian angel to save the world..
What should i do? Whom should i say? Should i carry a sword?..
No i wudnt i always hated violence..
I wud rather fly back to the cliffs for peace n silence..

then i took the u-turn n flew as fast as i cud to never return..
How long shud i run away from the place i was born?..
Went back to the cliff i started to scream..
After u dream of waking up, u never know u r still in a dream!
ConnectHook Oct 2016
Italic drumroll...
imperial cavalcade with Roman horns, eagle standards raised;

♪ ♫♪♫ ♪♪♫♫♪♪♫♫♪♪♫♫♪

ALL HAIL !
Ye screen-fed sacrificial citizens, seething simpletons and volatile voters:
attend now, with republican fervor, tempered by democratic zeal, to the golden-tongued orator of our epoch, gallant guardian of American greatness, avatar of avarice, the Jeffersonian gentleman, anointed autocrat and Sultan of Swell, windswept Wazir of Wonderful, emissary of towering eminence in empire, The Anti H-Rod: Donald J. TRUMP !

(
Plebeians look up from their circus-bread for a second—)

And may Our Sovereign Savior & Almighty God also bless his worthy opponent and adversary HILLARY (
"H-Rod")

(
Patricians murmur, nod; a few salute*)
Let the circus roll - (yawn)

https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2016/10/19/of-debatable-importance/
around age 7 or 8 Odysseus adopts role of doctor to girls of his generation fascinated even driven by their differences from him especially  advanced development of ***** hair he examines their genitals once he misdiagnoses Junie Porter gets soap in her urethra Junie cries then forgives Odysseus apologizes she continues returning as patient also brings her curious sister and neighborhood friend who wants to be examined as well on another occasion Mimi Greer and her mom Ida stop by house for visit Mom and Ida are close friends Odysseus and Mimi are same age he has crush on her they go off play in kid’s bedroom after Greers have gone Mom receives phone call from Mimi’s mom Ida complains alarmed because she found toy soldiers in her daughter’s ******* Mom shrugs thinks it's funny

Aunt Rita and cousin Patsy who is two years older than Odysseus come to house for visit Aunt Rita gossips with Mom in bedroom Penelope and Patsy call Odysseus into kid’s bedroom Patsy is very pretty delicate features light tan skin thick brown hair she pulls down her ******* shows newly grown ***** mound she offers “you can pet me there if you want see how mature i am” Penelope briefly acknowledges Patsy’s sparse growth Odysseus begins to pet scrutinize both girls see his fixation they begin to giggle and go wild attack Odysseus with their hands tickling his sides crotch unbuttoning his jeans it is utterly innocent play but Odysseus feels something astonishing thinking he is about to *** or release he cries out at them to stop hearing commotion Mom calls out “what’s going on in there? you kids settle down get in here right now!”  girls run off laughing Odysseus feels incredible tingling sensation between his legs looks down sees he has made mess clear sticky not *** does not understand what happened wipes himself clean later asks Patsy when he can pet her again she answers “when you grow some hair of your own down there” he says “promise?” she says “yeah i guess i promise” Odysseus never forgets Patsy’s vow he waits for ***** hair to grow several years pass Odysseus often sleeps over at his cousin’s house in suburbs Patsy has grown into flowering beauty petite cheerleader physique Odysseus is in awkward stage bones jutting pimples on his face back braces on his teeth he approaches Patsy in her bedroom “i finally grew some strands down there remember your promise? can i pet you again?” Patsy scoffs “no way! i completely forgot that childish pact you don’t know anything” Odysseus replies “yes i do!” Patsy’s hands grip her waist “you don’t even know what the word **** means do you?” Odysseus answers “yeah sure i do uh maybe what does **** mean? tell me please” Patsy shrugs nods “you’re so childish now run along Odys you are such a little dip-****” he begs “Patsy please tell me what does **** mean” she points her forefinger to the door and yells “get out of here you little creep!” he feels trampled after imagining desiring for years early next morning still dark he tiptoes from cousin Chris’s bedroom sneaks into Patsy’s bed pets her furry mound while she seems to sleep later Aunt Rita calls Odysseus into her bedroom closes door sternly addresses him “Patsy told to me what you did how dare you? you should be ashamed of yourself i’m worried about you Odys i’m not going to tell your Mom and Dad because i know your father will blow his top and i won’t say anything to Uncle Burt but if i ever hear of anything like this again you will be severely punished! understand?” his chin drops down to his chest “yes Aunt Rita i promise never to touch Patsy again i’m sorry please forgive me”

Odysseus runs into Lynnie Sultan on back stairs at Harper he thinks she is very good-looking wants to play doctor Lynnie is fair-haired taller a grade higher than Odysseus pushes himself on her she growls “you little ****” yet reluctantly gives in he reaches inside her ******* pets her ***** hairs gently caresses soft mound smells feels wetness pulls out two hairs Lynnie cries out “ouch! why did you do that?” Odysseus answers “keepsake” suddenly math teacher Mr. McClennan appears catching them in act Lynnie is dismissed school principal calls Mom demanding conference Odysseus is detained in principal’s office waiting room Mom arrives apologetic to principal “what mischief did Odys do this time?” principal insists they speak behind closed doors when she walks out of office she flashes fuming glare at Odysseus driving home she questions “how dare you do this to me? what were you thinking? answer me! what’s the matter with you?” she guns gas pedal silently he considers how provoked Dad will get stomach claws once they arrive inside house Mom slaps his face yells "you’re sick weak selfish ******* up in your head! you need psychiatric treatment!" tears run from her eyes down her cheeks Odysseus hates himself for making Mom be so upset with him he feels guilt desperation nothing in this world is more upsetting than watching Mom cry because of his actions
Classy J Aug 2023
Verse 1:
Rising to top, but I ain’t gonna drop.
No,no,no,no I ain’t gonna drop!
Cause I’m sipping on success,
******* ******* on my private jet yeah, yeah.
Sipping on success, the grind never stops.
Get that tattooed on ya chest.
Facing every challenge, unable to be stopped.
No, no, no, no I cannot be stopped!

Pre-chorus:
Cause I’m always evolving, yeah!
Musics my compulsion, yeah!
Uh, I Keep on evolving, keep on evolving,
Living my life like a sultan, like a sultan.

Chorus:
Isn’t that something? Uh, isn’t that something? Yeah
Doing **** my own way, my own way.
Cause I don’t play, no I don’t play.
And if you don’t like it, there’s the highway.

Verse 2:
Hit the road Jack, if ya ain’t willing to step up to the bat.
But even you do, You never hit the level that I am at.
Sorry not sorry for the lack of sympathy.
All I gotta give ya is the smallest symphony.

Pre-chorus:
Cause I’m always evolving, yeah!
Musics my compulsion, yeah!
Uh, I Keep on evolving, keep on evolving,
Living my life like a sultan, like a sultan.

Chorus:
Isn’t that something? Uh, isn’t that something? Yeah
Doing **** my own way, my own way.
Cause I don’t play, no I don’t play.
And if you don’t like it, there’s the highway.

Bridge:
Haters gonna hate, uh haters gonna hate.
Unlike you I do not break, yawl too fragile, yawl too fake!
I pour my heart & soul into this ****.
& that hard work turned into grit.

Chorus:
Isn’t that something? Uh, isn’t that something? Yeah
Doing **** my own way, my own way.
Cause I don’t play, no I don’t play.
And if you don’t like it, there’s the highway.

Outro:
This journeys a hustle,
Some of yawl too soft.
Don’t understand the struggle,
That’s why I make hits and yawl make flops.
Julian Aug 2022
‘Abá Cloak or mantle; a rough, coarse shirt.[1][2]
Ábádih
‘Abbás AR: عباس lion
‘Abdu’l-Bahá AR: عباس افندی Servant of Glory Title of ‘Abbás Effendi, the eldest son and successor of Bahá'u'lláh, meaning Servant of Bahá (Glory), i.e., Servant of Bahá'u'lláh. He preferred this title over others because it emphasized His servitude to Bahá'u'lláh.
‘Abdu’l-Hamid AR:  عبد الحميد servant of the All-Laudable
‘Abdu’l-Husayn AR:  عبد الحسين servant of Husayn
‘Abdu’lláh AR: عبد الله servant of God
Abhá AR: أبهى Most Glorious, All-Glorious A superlative form of the word Bahá’, "glory", or "glorious"; a form of the Greatest Name of God.
Abhá Beauty AR: جمال ابها A title of Bahá'u'lláh. See also Blessed Beauty.
Abhá Kingdom Most Glorious Kingdom The next stage of existence, or "the next world", i.e. the world of the afterlife.
Abjad system A numerological system, i.e. a system assigning a numerical value to letters, which creates a new layer of meaning in Scripture. For instance, the value of the word Bahá’ in the Abjad system is nine, lending that number a special significance.
Abu’l-Faḍl AR:  ابوالفضل father of virtue
‘Adasíyyih A village near the Jordan River where some early Baha'is lived, working as farmers at ‘Abdu’l-Bahá's request.
Adhan AR: أَذَان announcement[3] Also Azán. Muslim call to prayer.[2]
Ádhirbáyján FA: آذربایجان Also Azerbaijan. A region in northwestern Iran.[4]
Afnán AR: ﺍﻓﻨﺎﻥ twigs The maternal relatives of the Báb; used as a surname by their descendants.
Aghsán AR: ﺍﻏﺼﺎﻥ branches The male descendants of Bahá'u'lláh; has particular implications not only for the disposition of endowments but also for the succession of authority following the passing of Bahá’u’lláh and of his son ‘Abdu’l-Bahá.
A.H. After Hijirah. Date of Muḥammad’s migration from Mecca to Medina, and basis of Islamic chronology.[2]
‘Ahd
Aḥmad AR: أحمد to thank, to praise An Arabic given name from the same root as the name Muhammad.
Aḥsá’í AR: أحسائي from Ahsáʼ An Arabic demonym referring to a native of the Ahsáʼ region in eastern Saudi Arabia.
Ahváz FA: اهواز the Khuzi people A region in southwestern Iran.
‘Akká AR: عكّا A penal colony of the Ottoman Empire (now part of northern Israel) to which Bahá'u'lláh was banished by Sultan 'Abdu'l-'Aziz.
Akbar AR: اكبر great Great, or greater. See Alláh-u-Akbar, Ghusn-i-Akbar.[2]
‘Alá’ AR: علاء loftiness The nineteenth month of the Bahá’í calendar; the month of fasting.
Alí
Alláh-u-Abhá AR: الله أبهى God is Most Glorious A form of the Greatest Name of God. Commonly used as a greeting by Bahá'ís. Repeating Alláh-u-Abhá 95 times a day is a law binding on all Bahá'ís, as written by Bahá'u'lláh in the Kitáb-i-Aqdas.
Alláh-u-Akbar AR: ٱللَّٰهُ أَكْبَرُ God is Most Great
Alváh
Alváḥ-i-Saláṭín
Amatu'l-Bahá AR: امةالبهاء Maidservant of Glory Title of Rúhíyyih Khanum, the wife of Shoghi Effendi, meaning Maidservant of Bahá (Glory), i.e., Maidservant of Bahá'u'lláh.
Amín
Amír lord, prince, commander, governor[2] Also Ameer, Emir. The word originally signified a military commander, but very early came to be extended to anyone bearing rule.[5]
Amru’lláh
Anzalí
Áqá FA: آقا Sir, mister, master Also Aga, Agha. A dignitary or lord; used generally as a term of respect.[6] Title given by Bahá’u’lláh to ‘Abdu’l-Bahá (translated as "Master").[2]
Aqdas FA: اقدس‎ most holy Most Holy. Used in the title of the Kitáb-i-Aqdas.
‘Arabistán A former Arab Emirate that now forms part of the Iranian province of Khuzestan.
Aṣl-i-Kullu'l-Khayr AR: أﺻﻞ ﻛﻞ ﺍﻟﺨﻴﺮ words of wisdom A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh.
Asmá’ AR: اسماء names The ninth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
‘Avájiq FA: آواجیق The westernmost city in Iran, located in the province of West Ádhirbáyján.
Ayádí
Áyah AR: آية verse, sign, miracle Also Ayat. A verse, esp. of the Qur'án.
Ayyám-i-Há AR:  ايام الهاء days of Há A period of four or five intercalary days in the Bahá’í calendar, celebrated by Bahá'ís as a Festival marked by charity, hospitality and rejoicing.
Azal
‘Aẓam AR: اعظم greatest[2] See Ghusn-i-‘Aẓam.
‘Aẓamat AR: عظمة grandeur The fourth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
‘Azíz
B
Term Source Meaning Definition
Báb, The AR: باب door, gate Title assumed by Mírzá ‘Alí-Muḥammad after the declaration of His Mission as the promised Qá'im (or Mihdí/Mahdi) in Shíráz in May 1844.[2] A Manifestation of God whose dispensation preceded that of Bahá'u'lláh, and who foretold His coming. Founder of the Bábí religion.
Bábí AR: بابی of the gate A follower of the Báb, or an adjective used in relating something or someone to the Bábí religion.
Bábí religion The religion established by the Báb.
Bábu'l-Báb AR: باب الباب gate of the gate Title of Mullá Ḥusayn-i-Bushru'i, the first person to profess belief in the Báb.
Baghdád AR: مدينة بغداد bestowed by God[7] Also Bagdad.[8] The capital city of Iraq, to which Bahá’u’lláh was exiled in 1853. He took up residence and lived there for the greater part of a decade. His House in the Karkh sector of the city is a site of pilgrimage, although it was destroyed in 2013; a garden in the city's Rusafa sector was the site of the events celebrated during Riḍván.
Bahá’ AR: أبهى glory, splendour The Greatest Name of God, meaning "glory", or "glorious". The first month of the Bahá’í calendar. Title by which Bahá’u’lláh (Mírzá Ḥusayn-‘Alí) is designated.[2]
Bahá’í AR: بهائی of glory A follower of Bahá'u'lláh, or an adjective used in relating something or someone to the Bahá’í Faith. It is important to note that "Bahá’í" is not a noun meaning the religion as a whole; i.e. "She is a member of the Bahá'í Faith" rather than "She is a member of Bahá'í".
Bahá’í Faith The religion established by Bahá'u'lláh.
Bahá'u'lláh AR: بهاء الله Glory of God The Founder of the Bahá'í Faith, the Manifestation of God for this age.
Bahíyyih Bahíyyih Khánum, “Greatest Holy Leaf” (born Fáṭimih Sulṭán, 1846–15 July 1932)
Bahjí AR: البهجة delight A site outside the city of ‘Akká where Bahá'u'lláh spent His final years, in the Mansion of Bahjí.
Bait al-Adl AR: بيت العدل House of Justice Also Baytu’l-’Adl. The House of Justice, an elected legislative institution ordained by Bahá'u'lláh.
Bait al-Adl al-Azam AR: بيت العدل الأعظم House of Justice Also Baytu’l-’Adl-i-A’ẓam. The Universal House of Justice, also referred to as the Supreme House of Justice, the elected institution that currently serves as the head of the Bahá'í Faith.
Balúchistán FA: بلوچستان Southwestern province of Pakistan
Bandar-‘Abbás FA: بندرعباس A port city and capital of Hurmúzgán Province on the southern Persian Gulf coast of Írán
Baqíyyatu’lláh Remnant of God Title applied both to the Báb and to Bahá’u’lláh.[2]
Bárfurúsh FA: بارفروش a town in Mázindarán, now known as Bábul (Babol)
Bayán AR: بیان‎ exposition, utterance, explanation Title given by the Báb to His Revelation, particularly to His Books, and especially to two of His major works: The Persian Bayán and the Arabic Bayán.[2]
Bayt AR: بيت house, building
Big Honorary title; lower title than Khán.[2]
Bírjand FA: بیرجند city in eastern Írán
Bishárát AR: ﺍﻟﻄﺮﺍﺯﺍﺕ good news, glad-tidings A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh.
Bukhárá FA: بخارا city in Uzbekistan
Burújird FA: بروجرد Capital city of the province of Luristán, place of the governorship of Mírzá Buzurg
Búshihr FA: بوشهر Iranian city (once the primary port of Írán) and province on the Persian Gulf.
Búshrúyih FA: بشرويه a town in Khurásán, 55 km NE of Ṭabas and 70 km WSW of Tún. It is the birthplace of Mullá Ḥusayn, first disciple of the Báb.
C
Term Source Meaning Definition
Caravanserai FA: کاروانسرای caravan palace An inn for caravans, i.e. groups of traders, pilgrims or other travellers, engaged in long-distance travel.[2][9]
Chihár-Vádí FA: چهار وادی four valleys “Four Valleys” by Bahá’u’lláh. Addressed to Shaykh ‘Abdu’r-Raḥmán-i-Karkútí.
Chihríq FA: چهریق Fortress in Kurdish Ádhirbáyján, designated by the Báb as Jabal-i-Shadíd (the Grievous Mountain)
D
Term Source Meaning Definition
Dárúghih FA: داروغه high constable[2]
Darvísh FA: درویش seeking doors; beggar Also Dervish. A Muslim mystic, often a hermit or ascetic who wanders the land carrying a begging bowl (kashkúl). Equivalent to the Arabic faqír.[10]
Dawlih state, government[2] See Vakilu'd-Dawlih.
E
Term Source Meaning Definition
Effendi FA: افندي master A title of nobility.
F
Term Source Meaning Definition
Fárán Pers. small village in Ardistán
Farmán FA: فرمان order, command, royal decree[2] Also Firmán. An edict given by a sovereign, particularly for decrees, grants, passports, etc.[11]
Farrásh FA: فرش footman, lictor, attendant[2]
Farrásh-Báshí FA: فراش باشی The head farrásh.[2]
Fárs FA: فارس a southern province of Írán, from which the name Persia derives.
Farsakh FA: فرسخ Unit of measurement. Its length differs in different parts of the country according to the nature of the ground, the local interpretation of the term being the distance which a laden mule will walk in the hour, which varies from three to four miles. Arabicised from the old Persian “parsang,” and supposed to be derived from pieces of stone (sang) placed on the roadside.[2][12]
Fiḍál AR: فضال grace The fourth day of the week in the Bahá’í calendar, corresponding to Tuesday.
G
Term Source Meaning Definition
Ganjih FA: گنجه (Ganjeh) city (2nd largest) in Ádharbayján. It was named Elisabethpol in the Russian Empire period.
Ghuṣn-i-A‘ẓám FA: غصن اعظم Most Great or Greatest Branch, i.e. ‘Abdu’l-Bahá.
Ghuṣn-i-Akbar FA: غصن اکبر Greater Branch, i.e. Mírzá Muḥammad-‘Ali. Also The Chosen Branch, i.e. Shoghi Effendi.
Gílán FA: گیلان a northern province of Írán on the Caspian Sea.
H
Term Source Meaning Definition
Ḥadíth AR: حديث occurring, happening, taking place
Ḥájí AR: حاج Also Hajji, Hadji. A Muslim who has made the Hajj, i.e. pilgrimage.[2][13]
Ḥajj AR: حج setting out Also Hadj. The Muslim rite of pilgrimage to the holy city of Mecca.[13]
Hamadán FA: همدان Hamadán city in Írán, 144 km NE Kirmánsháh. Originally Ecbatana of the ancient Medes.
Ḥaydar-‘Alí AR: حيدر علي noted early Bahá’í, born into Shaykhí family of Iṣfahán. Known as the “Angel of Carmel”.
Haykal AR: هيكل temple; large building, edifice
Himmat-Ábád FA: همت اباد city in Raḍawí Khurásán Ústán Province, Írán
Howdah AR: هودج A litter carried by a camel, mule, horse, or elephant for travelling purposes.[2]
Ḥusayn AR: الحسين (diminutive form of Haṣan “Good”) Name of the third Imám, Ḥusayn.
Huvaydar village north of the city Ba‘qúba, which is 60 km NE of Baghdád
I
Term Source Meaning Definition
Ibráhím AR: إِبْرَاهِيْمُ A given name referring to Abraham, Patriarch of the people of Israel.
‘Idál AR: عدال justice The fifth day of the week in the Bahá’í calendar, corresponding to Wednesday.
Íl clan[2]
‘Ilm AR: علم knowledge The twelfth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Imám AR: إمام leader A Muslim religious leader; specifically, the title of the twelve shí’ah successors of Muḥammad.[2]
Imám-Jum’ih FA: امام جمعه Friday leader The leading imám in a town or city; chief of the mullás, who recites the Friday prayer for the sovereign.[2]
Imám-Zádih FA: امامزاده The tomb or shrine of an imám; or, a descendant of an imám.[2]
Iqán AR: الإيقان certitude being sure, knowing for certain; certitude. Also refers to the book, the Kitáb-i-Íqán.
Irán FA: ایران Írán, the kingdom of Persia proper. Derives from the name Aryán ("of the Iranians"), the self-identifier used by ancient Iranian peoples.
‘Iráq-i-‘Ajam FA: عراقِ عجم Persian ‘Iráq. ‘Iráq between the 11th to 19th centuries consisted of two neighbouring regions: Arabic Iraq (‘Iráq-i ‘Arab) and Persian Iraq (‘Iráq-i ‘Ajam). Arabic Iraq = ancient Babylonia (now central-southern Iraq), and Persian Iraq = ancient Media (now central-western Iran). The two regions were separated by the Zagros Mountains.
Iṣfahán FA: اصفهان Persian city 340 km south of Ṭihrán.
‘Ishqábád FA: عشق آباد Ashkhabad/Ashgabat; capital of Turkmenistan, known as the “City of Love”. A strong Bahá'í community developed there in the time of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá.
Ishráqát AR: ﺍﻻﺷﺮﺍﻗﺎﺕ radiance; radiation, eradiation, emanation; illumination A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh.
Ishtihárd a village 69 km SE of Qazvín and 54 km SW of Karaj
Islám AR: الاسلام submission, resignation, reconciliation (to the will of God in every age)
Ismá‘ílíyyih AR: الإسماعيلية Isma’ilism (Ismá‘ílí sect)—branch of Shí‘a Islám that followed the Imám succession through the eldest son.
Istarábád FA: أستاراباد See Astarábád: “City of Mules”, on south eastern Caspian Sea border of Írán. Since 1937 called Gúrgán (Gorgán).
Istijlál AR: استجلال majesty The sixth day of the week in the Bahá’í calendar, corresponding to Thursday.
Istiqlál AR: استقلال independence The seventh day of the week in the Bahá’í calendar, corresponding to Friday.
‘Izzat AR: عزة might The tenth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
J
Term Source Meaning Definition
Jalál AR: جلال glory The second month of the Bahá’í calendar. Also the first day of the Bahá'í week, corresponding to Saturday.
Jamál AR: جمال beauty The third month of the Bahá’í calendar. Also the second day of the Bahá'í week, corresponding to Sunday.
Jamál-i-Mubárak FA: جمال مبارک “The Blessed Beauty” Title used by some Bahá’ís for Bahá’u’lláh.
Jásb FA: جاسب rural district, Markazí Province, Írán
Jubbih AR: جبيه Also Jubba. A cloth cloak or upper coat.[2][12]
K
Term Source Meaning Definition
Ka‘bih AR: كَعْبَة cube Also Kaaba, Ka'ba, Kaabeh. An ancient shrine at Mecca; the most holy shrine of Islam, located at the center of Islam's most important mosque, the Masjid al-Haram.[2][14]
Kad-Khudá FA: کدخدا Chief of a ward or parish in a town; headman of a village.[2]
Kalantar FA: کلانتر mayor[2]
Kalím FA: کلیم one who discourses[2]
Kalimát AR: كلمات words The eighth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Kalímát-i-Firdawsíyyih AR: ﺍﻟﻜﻠﻤﺎﺕ ﺍﻟﻔﺮﺩﻭﺳﻴﺔ words of paradise A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh.
Kamál AR: كمال perfection The ninth month of the Bahá’í calendar. Also the third day of the Bahá'í week, corresponding to Monday.
Karand FA: کارند A village about 100 km SE of Ṭihrán.
Karbilá AR: كربلاء Also Karbala, Kerbela. A ****’ite holy city in ‘Iráq where the Imám Ḥusayn was murdered and buried, and where His Shrine is located.[15]
Karbilá’í AR: کربلایی A Muslim who has performed the pilgrimage to Karbilá.
Káshán FA: کاشان One of the oldest cities of Írán, located in north central Persia.[16]
Kawthar AR: ٱلكَوْثَر abundant, plentiful Name of a lake or river in Paradise that Muḥammad saw on his mystic night journey (Qur’án, surah 108).
Kázim AR: ٱلْكَاظِم “One who suppresses his passion or anger”. The title of the seventh Imám of the Shí‘ih.
Kirmán FA: کرمان capital city of Kirmán province, Írán
Kirmánsháh FA: کرمانشاه Province and city in western Írán.
Khán AR: خان caravanserai A roadside inn where travelers (caravaners) could rest and recover from their day's journey.[9]
Khán-i-'Avámid FA: خان آوامید The caravanserai in ‘Akká where Bahá'u'lláh used to receive guests, and later the site for a Bahá'í school.
Khanúm FA:  خانم lady, Madame, Mrs. An honorific title given to women of high social status.
Khurásán FA: خراسان sunrise; orient Province in the north-eastern part of Írán until 2004—replaced by North Khurásán, South Khurásán and Razavi (Raḍawí) Khurásán Provinces.
Khuy FA: خوی (Khoy) city in and the capital of Khoy County, West Azerbaijan Province, Írán
Kitáb AR: الكتاب book A book.
Kitáb-i-‘Ahd FA: کتاب عهدی Book of the Covenant Testament of Bahá’u’lláh, designated by Him as His “Most Great Tablet”
Kitáb-i-Aqdas FA: کتاب اقدس The Most Holy Book by Bahá’u’lláh, written in Arabic
Kitáb-i-Íqán FA: کتاب ایقان Book of Certitude by Bahá’u’lláh
Kull-i-Shay’ AR: كل شىء all things The 361-year supercycle of the Bahá’í calendar, which consists of 19 Váḥids.
Kurdistán FA: کوردستان Greater Kurdistan, a roughly defined geo-cultural historical region wherein the Kurdish people form a prominent majority population and Kurdish culture, languages and national identity have historically been based.
L
Term Source Meaning Definition
Láhíján FA: لاهیجان Caspian sea resort in and the capital of Láhíján County
Lár FA: لار city in province of Fárs
Lawḥ AR: ﻟﻮﺡ board, blackboard
Luristán FA: لرستان a province and an area in western Írán in the Zagros Mountains
M
Term Source Meaning Definition
Maḥbúbu’sh-Shuhadá’ AR­: محبوب الشهداء Beloved of Martyrs Mírzá Muḥammad-Ḥusayn. Brother of Mírzá Muḥammad-Ḥasan, both from Iṣfahán.
Maḥmúd AR: محمود praised, commendable, laudable, praiseworthy A common Arabic name; a form of the name Muḥammad.
Mákú FA: ماکو a city in the West Azerbaijan Province, Írán
Maláyir FA: ملایر city SSE of Ḥamdán, Írán
Maqám FA: مقام site, location
Marághih FA: مراغه city 75 km south of Tabriz, Ádhirbáyján
Marḥabá AR: مرحبا welcome, well done A customary expression of greeting or welcome.
Masá’il AR: مسائل questions The fifteenth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Mashhad FA: مشهد‎ place of assembly place where a martyr or hero died; religious shrine venerated by the people, especially the tomb of a saint
Mashíyyat AR: مشية will The eleventh month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Mashriqu’l-Adhkár AR: مشرق اﻻذكار Dawning-place of the praises, prayers, remembrances or mentions of God Title for a purpose-built Bahá’í House of Worship.
Mázindarán FA: مازندران A province in northern Írán, on the Caspian Sea. Ancient stronghold of the Parthian and Sassanian Empires, and the ancestral home of Bahá’u’lláh.
Merv FA: مرو‎ Also: Marv. Ancient city located on the Silk Road near the modern-day city of Mary, Turkmenistan.
Mihdí AR: ٱلْمَهْدِيّ‎ One who guides aright, the Guided One. A title of the Twelfth (expected) Imám or Qá’im. Mírzá Mihdí (“The Purest Branch”)
Mílán FA: میلان A village 23 km SW Tabríz, in Ádhirbáyján.
Mírzá FA: میرزا of noble lineage Derived from amírzádeh, meaning child of the Amír or child of the ruler. A term of respect which generally indicates a literate person. When used at the end of a name, it denotes a prince.[17]
Mishkín-Qalam FA: مشكین قلم One of the nineteen Apostles of Bahá'u'lláh, and famous calligrapher of 19th century Persia.
Mithqal AR: مثقال‎ Also Miskal. A unit of weight commonly used in Persia.[12]
Muḥammad AR: مُحَمَّد praised, commendable, laudable Also Mohammed. A common Arabic name, referring to the Prophet of Islam.
Muḥammarih Former name of Persian city Khurramshahr
Mujtahid AR: مُجْتَهِد‎ one who strives or one who exerts himself A mujtahid in contemporary Írán is now called an áyatu’lláh.
Mulk AR: ملك dominion The eighteenth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Mullá FA: ملا A member of the Muslim clergy.
Munírih FA: منیره luminous, radiant Munírih Khánum, wife of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá (mid 1848–28 April 1938)
Mustagháth AR: مستغث the one called upon for help Used as the name of God by the Báb.
N
Term Source Meaning Definition
Nabíl
Najaf
Najaf-Ábá­d FA: نجف‌آباد A city in Iran's Isfahan Province.
Náqiḍín opposers, violators Covenant-breakers.
Násiri'd-Dín FA: ناصرالدین شاه Protector/Defender of the Faith
Naw-Rúz FA: نوروز new day The new year of the Bahá’í calendar, falling on the day of the spring equinox, i.e. the day on which the sun enters the constellation of Aries as viewed from Tehran.
Nayríz FA: نی‌ریز‎ A city in Iran's Fars Province, southeast of Shíráz, and the site of a major struggle between Bábís and authorities under the Qajar dynasty.
Níshábúr FA: نیشابور A city in northeastern Iran's Razavi Khorasan province, and former capital of Khorasan Province.
Núr AR: نور light The fifth month of the Bahá’í calendar. Also
P
Term Source Meaning Definition
Pahlaví, Pahlawí belonging to a city; a citizen
Q
Term Source Meaning Definition
Qádí AR: قادی judge A civil, criminal, or ecclesiastical judge.[2]
Qádíyán AR: قادیان City in Punjab, India. The birthplace of Mirza Ghulam Ahmad, founder of the Ahmadiyya sect of Islam.
Qá’im FA: قائم He Who shall arise Title designating the Promised One of Islám.[2]
Qalyán FA: قالیان hookah A pipe for smoking through water.[2]
Qamṣar village 25 km south of Káshán, Írán
Qawl AR: قول speech The fourteenth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Qayyúm permanent, lasting, stable Superlative of Qá’im [the Báb], the Most Great One Who will arise [Bahá’u’lláh]
Qayyúmu'l-Asmá The Báb's commentary on the Qur'an's Surih of Joseph, characterized by Bahá'u'lláh as "the first, the greatest, and mightiest of all books" in the Bábí Dispensation.
Qazvín a city 140 km NW of Ṭihrán.
Qiblih AR: قبلة Also Qibla, Qiblah. The direction to which people turn in prayer; especially Mecca, the Qiblih of all Muslims.[2][18]
Qúchán city and capital of Qúchán County
Quddús The Most Holy
Qudrat AR: قدرة power The thirteenth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Qum holy city 130 km SSW of Ṭihrán, location of the Shrine of Ma’ṣúmih, the sister of Imám Riṣá, the eighth Imám
Qur’án AR: الۡقُرۡآنۡ recitation, reading, the word
Qurbán AR: قربان sacrifice[2]
Qurratu'l-ʿAyn A title of Táhirih, meaning Solace of the Eyes.
R
Term Source Meaning Definition
Rafsinján city and council in Kirmán province, Írán
Rahím merciful, compassionate one of the names (ar-Raḥím) of God
Raḥmán merciful, compassionate (God)
Raḥmat AR: رحمة mercy The sixth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Rasht city in province of Gílán
Rawḥání good, agreeable, clean and pure (place)
Riḍván AR: رضوان paradise The "King of Festivals" of the Bahá’í Faith, commemorating Bahá'u'lláh's 1863 declaration that He was a Manifestation of God, in the Garden of Ridván outside Baghdad. Also used literally in other contexts, to mean "paradise".
Rúḥu’lláh Spirit of God A designation Muslims use for Jesus. Son of Mírzá ‘Alí-Muḥammad-i-Varqá
S
Term Source Meaning Definition
Sabzivár F­A: سبزوار city in Khurásán Province
Sadratu’l-Muntahá AR: سِدْرَة ٱلْمُنْتَهَىٰ‎ Lote Tree of the Farthest Boundary Symbolically, the Lote tree in the Seventh Heaven; the utmost extremity, a boundary which no one can pass.
Ṣáḥibu’z-Zamán FA: صاحب زمان Lord of the Age One of the titles of the promised Qá’im.[2]
Sárí FA: ساری A town in eastern Mázindarán province. (GPB p. 40)
Sháh FA: شاه king, emperor, sovereign, monarch, prince A title given to the emperors and kings of Persia and other societies under Persian influence.
Sháhansháh FA: شاهنشاه‎ king of kings The full title of Persian emperors since the Achaemenid dynasty.
Shahíd AR: شهيد martyr Singular form.[2]
Shahmirzád FA: شهميرزاد‎ A town in the province of Semnan, 170 km east of Ṭihrán, Írán.
Sháhrúd FA: شاهرود a mighty river; name of a river Name of a crossroad city 330 km NE of Teheran. Also: a type of lute (musical instrument); the thickest cord of a musical instrument.
Sharaf AR: شرف honour The sixteenth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Shaykh AR: شیخ A learned man; generally used for elders, chiefs, professors, or heads of dervish orders.
Shaykhu’l-Islám AR: شيخ الإسلام Head of a religious court, appointed to every large city by the king or ruler.[2]
Shí’ih AR: شِيعَة‎ followers, i.e. of Ali Of or relating to Shia/****'ih Islam, the second largest branch of Islam.
Shíráz FA: شیراز‎ The capital of Fars province, Iran; birthplace of the Báb, and the site of His Declaration.
Shuhada AR: الشهداء martyrs Plural form.[2]
Shushtar
Simnán FA: سمنان‎ A province in northern Iran.
Sísán FA: سیسان Seysan, Sisan-e Qadim. A village in Eastern Ádhirbáyján province, Iran.
Sístán FA: سیستان‎ land of the Saka A historical and geographical region in eastern Iran and Southern Afghanistan; known in ancient times as Sakastan.
Síyáh-Chál FA: سیاه چال‎ black pit The dungeon south east of the palace of the Sháh and near the Sabzih-Maydán in Tehran in which Bahá'u'lláh was incarcerated for some months in 1852. It was originally built as a reservoir, storing water for the public baths nearby. In the Persian language, "Síyáh-chál" (Persian: سیاه چال, literally "black pit") is the common name for a dungeon.
Siyyid AR: سيد‎ A descendant of the Prophet Muhammad.[2]
Súfí AR: ٱلصُّوفِيَّة‎ one who wears wool Of, or relating to the mystical practice of Islam.
Sulaymán AR: سُليمان Solomon An Arabic given name referring to Solomon, King of Israel and son of King David.
Sulaymániyyih AR: السليمانية‎ A town in Kurdish Iraq. Bahá’u’lláh resided as a dervish in the mountains surrounding the town from 1854 to 1856.
Sulṭán AR: سلطان sovereignty The seventeenth month of the Bahá’í calendar.
Sulṭán-Ábád
Sulṭánu’sh-Shuhadá’ AR: سلطان الشهداء King of Martyrs A title given to Mírzá Muḥammad-Ḥasan of Isfahan.
Sunní AR: أهل السنة people of the sunnah, i.e. majority tradition Of or relating to Sunni Islam, the largest branch of Islam.
Súrih AR: سورة tablet, chapter Also: Surah, Súriy. A tablet, or letter. The chapters of the Qur'an are known as súrihs or surahs.[2]
Súriy-i-Ghuṣn AR: سورة الهيكل Tablet of the Branch Also: Súratu’l-Ghuṣn. A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh in which He confirms a high station for ‘Abdu’l-Bahá.
Súriy-i-Haykal AR: سورة الهيكل Tablet of the Temple Also: Súratu’l-Haykal. A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Summons of the Lord of Hosts, which includes his messages addressed to five world leaders: Pope Pius IX, Napoleon III, Czar Alexander II, Queen Victoria, and Násiri'd-Dín Sháh.
Súriy-i-Mulúk AR: سورة الملوك Tablet of the Kings Also: Súratu’l-Mulúk. A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Summons of the Lord of Hosts, addressed collectively to the monarchs of the East and the West.
Súriy-i-Ra'ís AR: سورة الرئيس Tablet of the Chief Also: Súratu’l-Ra'ís. A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Summons of the Lord of Hosts, addressed to ‘Alí Páshá, the Ottoman Prime Minister.
T
Term Source Meaning Definition
Tabríz FA: تبریز flowing hot capital of Ádharbayján Province, Írán.
Ṭáhirih FA: طاهره‎ clean, pure; chaste, modest, virtuous The pure one
Tajallíyát AR: ﺍﻟﺘﺠﻠﻴﺎﺕ lustre, brightness, brilliancy, effulgence A tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh.
Tákur FA: تاكور village 40 km south of Núr and 47.5 km NE of Afjihin. It is Bahá’u’lláh’s ancestral home.
Ṭarázát AR: ﺍﻟﻄﺮﺍﺯﺍﺕ ornaments A royal robe, or rich dress ornamented with embroidery. Name of a tablet of Bahá’u’lláh published in Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh.
Tarbíyat FA: تربيت education, upbringing, teaching, instruction, pedagogy The name of a group of Bahá’í schools established in Ṭihrán around the turn of the 20th century.
Ṭashkand FA: تاشکند city of stones; place on a hill Tashkent, capital of Uzbekistan
Tawhid AR: توحيد‎ unification, union, combination, fusion Oneness of God, the most important article of faith in Islam.
Thurayyá AR: الثريا The Pleiades; a star cluster once seen and described by the Prophet Muhammad. Used as a female given name (Soraya).
Ṭihrán FA: تهران‎ a warm place; Tir's abode; bottom of the mountain Tehran/Teheran, capital of Írán, birthplace of Bahá’u’lláh.
Túman A sum of money equivalent to a dollar.[2][12]
U
Term Source Meaning Definition
‘Ulamá AR: أولاما knowers Also Ulema. Learned men of Islam, i.e. theologians, canon lawyers, professors, muftis, etc; a council of the learned, especially in a Muslim state.[19]
Urúmíyyih FA: ارومیه water town Also Urmia, Orumiyeh. City in West Ádharbáyján Province, Írán, located near the lake of the same name.[4]
Ustád FA: اوستاد master A master craftsman.
V
Term Source Meaning Definition
Vaḥíd FA: وحید alone, solitary Superlative form of ‘waḥada’, to be alone. Numerical value of 28.
Váḥid FA: واحد unity The 19-year cycle of the Bahá’í calendar.
Valí-‘Ahd FA: ولیعهد heir to the throne[2] A crown prince, or chosen successor.
Varqá FA: ورقا Dove
Vazír FA: وزیر burden-bearer, helper[20] Also Vizier, Vizir, Wazír. The chief minister and representative of the caliph, and later, of the head of state of the Persian and Ottoman Empires.[20]
W
Y
Term Source Meaning Definition
Yá ‘Alíyyu’l-‘Alá “O Thou the Exalted of the Exalted” or “O Thou the Exalted, the Most Exalted”. A form of the name of the Báb, used as an invocation.
Yá Alláhu'l-Mustagháth AR: يا الله المستغث “O God, He Who is invoked” or “O Thou God Who art invoked”
Yá Bahá’u’l-Abhá AR: يا بهاء الأبهى “O Glory of the All-Glorious” or “O Thou the Glory of the Most Glorious”. A form of the name of Bahá’u’lláh, used as an invocation.
Yaḥyá AR: يحيى John A common Arabic given name, referring to John the Baptist.
Yazd A province and city in central Írán, notable as the primary centre of the Persian Zoroastrian population.
Z
Term Source Meaning Definition
Zádih son of;[2] descendant of Also Zadeh, Zada. A common patronymic suffix.
Zanján Also Zenján.[21] City between Qazvín and Tabríz, home of Ḥujjat; site of a major battle in which Bábís were massacred.
Zaynu’l-Muqarrabín “the Ornament of the Near Ones” or “the Ornament of the favoured”
À Juana la grenadine,
Qui toujours chante et badine,
Sultan Achmet dit un jour :
- Je donnerais sans retour
Mon royaume pour Médine,
Médine pour ton amour.

- Fais-toi chrétien, roi sublime !
Car il est illégitime,
Le plaisir qu'on a cherché
Aux bras d'un turc débauché.
J'aurais peur de faire un crime.
C'est bien assez du péché.

- Par ces perles dont la chaîne
Rehausse, ô ma souveraine,
Ton cou blanc comme le lait,
Je ferai ce qui te plaît,
Si tu veux bien que je prenne
Ton collier pour chapelet.

Le 20 octobre 1828.
KathleenAMaloney Jul 2016
This
My Fault
This

I felt your light upon my
Chest
With melting Streams
And Rivers
I did Fear

Oceans of Goodness
So Intense
No Thought of Myself
Could I Take

No other could be Greater
For This
I am Alive
Blameless Life
I'm Sorry.
Thank you for trying
The cards had been falling badly for
The man that they knew as Jack,
He’d entered through the scullery door
In a faded, stained old Mac,
He didn’t look like he had a buck
Til he reached into his coat,
And pulled a roll of hundreds out
That would choke a Nanny Goat.

They said he could play a hundred down
And a hundred for each raise,
It didn’t appear to faze him then,
He said, ‘Well, loser pays!’
He fooled them all with his poker face
And he bluffed at first to win,
But by the time that the clock struck eight
His roll was getting thin.

When Diamond Jim played a Royal Flush
And took his final note,
Jack stood up and he shook his head
And reached out for his coat,
‘I thought that you’d try to win it back,
You must have more to spare,
I’ll wager it all for what you’ve got
In your pocket, double dare!’

Jack then sat, and his eyes had glowed
As he scowled at Diamond Jim,
Pulled out a tarnished silver coin
And he said, ‘Well let’s begin!’
They eyed the coin on the table-top
Its head like a man with horns,
‘You can’t look now at the tails of it
Til you own it, then it’s yours.’

‘What would you say that coin is worth,
I’ve never seen its like.’
‘There isn’t enough in all the earth
To purchase it, by right,
It must be won in a game of chance
As I won it, long ago,
From a man like a Turkish Sultan that
I met in a travelling show.

Diamond Jim dealt a single hand
And he said, ‘What if I win?’
‘Then you can look at the coin’s reverse
And the chaos will begin!’
‘I think that you’d better show me now
Before we play this hand,
I’m not so sure that I want this coin
With its evil Goats Head Man.

Jack reached out and he tossed the coin
Which spun for a while up there,
As each man suddenly felt the pain
Of a deep and a dark despair,
It took forever to clatter down
And rest on the table top,
The sign of a Spider facing up,
They thought that their hearts would stop.

For up from the coin the spirits came
Of the ones that they’d loved and lost,
And all of them seemed to be in pain
As the wailing came across,
They lurched away from the table, and
They stood and they shook in fear,
‘By God, there’s Marilyn Ampersand
Who drowned in June last year.’

The walls of the room then fell away
They stood on a stony beach,
A woman was drowning out in the surf
But totally out of reach,
And Diamond Jim gave an awful cry
From the depths of his shattered soul,
‘I’d give the world as a ransom, dear,
To bring you back safe, and whole.’

Then Jack had snatched at the tarnished coin
And flipped it up on its head,
The room returned, they were standing there,
‘You can bring her back from the dead!
You only have to possess the coin
Are you willing to play the hand?’
But Jim had wiped at his fevered brow
And shook, he could barely stand.

He took his winnings, all in a roll
And he pushed them back at Jack,
‘Just take your coin and your money too
And leave, don’t ever come back!
I like my world as it is, my friend,
Though grief lies deep in the groin,
But Marilyn won’t be coming back
From the other side of the coin!’

David Lewis Paget
Beaucoup de ces dieux ont péri
C'est sur eux que pleurent les saules
Le grand Pan l'amour Jésus-Christ
Sont bien morts et les chats miaulent
Dans la cour je pleure à Paris

Moi qui sais des lais pour les reines
Les complaintes de mes années
Des hymnes d'esclave aux murènes
La romance du mal aimé
Et des chansons pour les sirènes

L'amour est mort j'en suis tremblant
J'adore de belles idoles
Les souvenirs lui ressemblant
Comme la femme de Mausole
Je reste fidèle et dolent

Je suis fidèle comme un dogue
Au maître le lierre au tronc
Et les Cosaques Zaporogues
Ivrognes pieux et larrons
Aux steppes et au décalogue

Portez comme un joug le Croissant
Qu'interrogent les astrologues
Je suis le Sultan tout-puissant
Ô mes Cosaques Zaporogues
Votre Seigneur éblouissant

Devenez mes sujets fidèles
Leur avait écrit le Sultan
Ils rirent à cette nouvelle
Et répondirent à l'instant
À la lueur d'une chandelle.
Donall Dempsey May 2019
SAD VALENTINES FOR BREAKFAST

Oh my how red **** struts(thinks he's a sultan)    
striding in and out among his harem-scarum hens

talking to themselves
like some lost senile sentimental souls.

Foolish fowl!

They lay eggs for gentlemen
and kids on long hot summer holidays

they hide their eggs like broken hearts
like old love letter secrets

safe in unseen places.

But see Auntie Nellie *****-nilly as a fox
stalk the chickens and expose them

cruel as the NEWS OF THE WORLD.

See her raid the haystacks
(backseat of the old car)    
rain rusting machinery

her apron pregnant and precious with
the warm and brown gift of eggs.

Red **** crows loud against the morning marigolds
while children's voices babble sleepily into wide awakefulness

love letter secrets staining their lips
sad valentines for breakfast.
DJKearney Oct 2016
High dome shelter me
Like the divine palm protect
Do not give way my shield, to the sky

The heavens bow down to me
But the peoples rebel

Alas my Sultanate

Farewell.
Zombee Sep 2014
Sad
.


these are things that make me Sad:..








imagining how sad that Powder must be...
...after Labor day.


imagining how sad rabecca Black must be...
...on Wednesday.


imagining how sad quasiModo would be...
...in Gattaca.


imagining how sad rosie oDonnel would be...
...in Ethiopia.


imagining how sad benjamin Button woulda been..
...in Neverland.


imagining how sad sleeping Beauty would be...
...finally waking Up........n seeing meDusa.










imagining how scared free ***** must be...
...of sunshine aQuarium.


imagining how scared jimmy Neutron would be...
...in sleepy Hollow.


imagining how scared that Pingping musta been...
...of Sultan.


imagining how scared that Avatars woulda been...
...of ******.


imagining how scared that Petrified wood would be...
...of paul Bunyan. (Dumb xD)


imagining how scared
six jodie Fosters would be
in a Panic room with seven Hannibals.










imaging how bad trig Palin would be...
...at Trigonometry.  (too Much..)


imagining how bad epiLeptic children are...
...at Laser tag.


imagining how bad steven Hawking would be...
...at Roller derby.


imagining how bad that Rainman woulda been...
...at Rain dancing.


imaginging how bad helen Keller woulda been...
...at Karaoke.


imagining how bad desiree Jennings musta been...
...at Hopscotch.










imaginging how effortlessly,
robin willams was Acting...
...in will Hunting.


too Soon?...
...Oh........Sorry.


"Thats okay...
...its not your Fault."


Thanks babe.


.
knowing how bad that I am...
...at Everything.


knowing how mad the Grinch is...
...at Whoville.


knowing how scared bugs Bunny is...
...of Wabbit season.


knowing how Sad......Pinocchio is...
...everywhere he Goes.

-  Pariah


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_x4_QrMcm8
Mark Blickley Feb 2017
Before the Dawn Of  Agriculture men like ME where slapped into the shadow of ****** shame but now who needs muscles or chiseled chins, great size or strength, a lover’s passion or a manly countenance ‘cause  for ten thousandyears now I  can persecute any female for infidelity towards ME  and hold paternity privilege over MY biological  children  because we exceptional farmers invented marriage to  destroy human sexuality  by enslaving women with MY property for *** so I no longer need to share or compete or settle for an alpha males’ sloppy seconds within foraging groups  that are forced to share what they carry  with them instead of our  enforced legal couplings that takes the innocent, primal pleasure and mystery out of *** by connectingshtooping  to birth thanks to dirt MY dirt MY very own thousand acres of seeded soil littered with pens full of  MY trapped sheep, cattle, goats and pigs which means I can pork any female  I fancy and  destroy any man who thwarts MY desire as simply as the bulls I castrate  into submission to easily herd  into MY  slaughterhouses that feed all the inferior people no longerdependent on their hunting and gathering skills but on ME to stay alive so not only am I not considered a sociopath by hoarding food but am praised at harvest time like a ******* Babe Ruth hero because I have legally claimed and legally ***** those precious few life giving inches of topsoil with rotating crops and extended grasslands that exhausts and shrinks the earth, MY earth MY reign of  forcing agricultural workers  to bend over in the fields, stupidly exposing hairless backs to sun poisoning  instead of their protective hunters’ heads of hair  harvesting MY food that shrinks the  testicles of everyone who is forced to feed on the  cheap calories of MY  industrialized plants and animals that lowers fertility, but who needs big ***** anymore when you don’t have to **** larger animals  in order to survive or attract females with your superior physical attributes proving I am the social parasite Sultan of Swat who grows fat on the food  I’ve  seized by stealingPaleo land in the name of government protected ownership.
Micaela Apr 2014
Here's space;

I snort the excrement's
of your lives .

This is me taking
hold of you.

You may not feel it
tonight but I will return
at dawn.

I can't help but to gaze in your bloodshot
swollen eyes. Burdened of all fears you
hold inside.

I take away your life.

— The End —