The Wrathful

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O pupils of Gaza . . .

Teach us . . .

A little of what you have

For we have forgotten . . .

Teach us . .

To be men

For we have men . .

dough they become . . .

Teach us . .

How the rocks become

in the children's hands,

precious diamond . .

How it becomes

The child's bicycle, a mine

And the silk ribbon . .

An ambush . .

How the feeding bottle nipple . .

If detained not

Turns into a knife . . . .

O pupils of Gaza

Care not . .

about our broadcasts . .

And hear us not . .

Strike . .

Strike . . .

With all your powers

And firmly in your hands take matters

And ask us not . .

We the people of arithmetic . .

And of addition . .

And of subtraction . .

Your wars do carry on

And abstain from us . .

We're the deserters

from the service,

Your ropes do bring

And hang us . . .

We're mortals . .

Who possess not tombs

And orphans . .

who possess not masters

We kept already to our rooms . .

And we asked you

To fight the dragon . .

We've diminished, before you

A thousand century . .

And you've grown

-Within a month-Centuries . .

O pupils of Gaza . .

Return not . .

To our writings . . And read us not

We're your fathers . .

Do resemble us not . .

We're your idols . .

Do worship us not . .

We engage in

Political lies . .

And repression . .

And we build graves . .

And jails . .

Liberate us . .

From the fear problem in us . .

And expel

The opium from our heads . .

Teach us . .

The art of adherence to the Land,

And leave not . .

The Messiah saddened . .

O our beloved children

Salam . .

May Allah render your day

Jasmine . . .

From the cracks of ruined earth

You emerged forth

And planted in our wound

Musk rose . .

This is the revolution of notebooks . .

And ink . .

Do become on the lips

melodies . .

Shower us . .

Heroism, and pride

And from our ugliness wash us

Wash us . .

Fear neither Moses. .

Nor Moses' spell . .

And ready yourself

To harvest the olives

Verily this Jewish age

is an illusion . .

That shall collapse . .

Albeit sureness we possess . . .

O madmen of Gaza . .

A thousand welcome . . .

in madmen,

If they liberate us

Verily the age of political reason

has long bygone . . .

Do teach us madness . . .

© Nizar Qabbani