For the day that is dying!
(Dedicated to a fierce fighter for justice – dearest Huwaidaa Arraf)
I thought I was indulging in a tour … and lost myself
At home I was ignorant and unknown
When I left home, my courage spread far & wide
The pious & the agnostics laid their merit at my feet.
O’ for the day that is dying!
Palestine is like a warehouse filled with rare merchandise,
That draws people from all “three quarters,”
Now its richness is gone, it has no worth.
O’ for the day that is dying!
Its people were of high standing,
Now they are made to feel the lowest of the low,
O’ for the day that is dying!
The Israeli is happy, he owns the aeroplane and the Uzi,
The Zionist is gratified, he controls the trade & tyranny,
Palestinians are but empty drums, subsisting on God’s grace,
For them is a pile of biscuit crumbs & lemonade bitter,
O’ for the day that is dying!
Palestine, I see is a supremely beautiful woman,
Almost impersonal and above all human desires,
It’s feminine beauty of river & valley & graceful trees,
O’ for the day that is dying!
Palestine, I see is a masculine magical beauty,
Of hard mountains and precipices,
The rugged peaks & the cruel deserts
O’ for the day that is dying!
Palestine has a thousand faces, sometimes smiling,
Many times sad and full of sorrow,
Watching this magical spectacle, I feel faint,
It seems dreamlike and unreal,
Like the hopes and desires that fills us wholesome,
But seldom finds fulfilled
O’ Palestine – you are the face of the beloved
That I see in a dream that
Keeps fading away when I am wakened,
O’ for the day that is dying!
….
O’ for the day that is dying!
We, the people of the Stars & the Stripes
How dare we slumber in the shade of complacence
Leading lives as frivolous as the fallen petals
While our fellow man has no dwelling –
Save the saddles of camels and the bellies of the valleys
Blood has been spilled all around the three quarters
Beautiful young dames have been shamed, and
The angelic innocence of children has been robbed
Dignity of the wrinkled man, and
Honor of the wailing woman
The crying church,
The moaning mosque, and
The wailing wall … calling on you,
The man of slumber in the stars, and
The woman of colors in the stripes
O’ for the day that has not “yet” died!
Shakeel Syed – Jerusalem – June 6
(Dedicated to a fierce fighter for justice – dearest Huwaidaa Arraf)
I thought I was indulging in a tour … and lost myself
At home I was ignorant and unknown
When I left home, my courage spread far & wide
The pious & the agnostics laid their merit at my feet.
O’ for the day that is dying!
Palestine is like a warehouse filled with rare merchandise,
That draws people from all “three quarters,”
Now its richness is gone, it has no worth.
O’ for the day that is dying!
Its people were of high standing,
Now they are made to feel the lowest of the low,
O’ for the day that is dying!
The Israeli is happy, he owns the aeroplane and the Uzi,
The Zionist is gratified, he controls the trade & tyranny,
Palestinians are but empty drums, subsisting on God’s grace,
For them is a pile of biscuit crumbs & lemonade bitter,
O’ for the day that is dying!
Palestine, I see is a supremely beautiful woman,
Almost impersonal and above all human desires,
It’s feminine beauty of river & valley & graceful trees,
O’ for the day that is dying!
Palestine, I see is a masculine magical beauty,
Of hard mountains and precipices,
The rugged peaks & the cruel deserts
O’ for the day that is dying!
Palestine has a thousand faces, sometimes smiling,
Many times sad and full of sorrow,
Watching this magical spectacle, I feel faint,
It seems dreamlike and unreal,
Like the hopes and desires that fills us wholesome,
But seldom finds fulfilled
O’ Palestine – you are the face of the beloved
That I see in a dream that
Keeps fading away when I am wakened,
O’ for the day that is dying!
….
O’ for the day that is dying!
We, the people of the Stars & the Stripes
How dare we slumber in the shade of complacence
Leading lives as frivolous as the fallen petals
While our fellow man has no dwelling –
Save the saddles of camels and the bellies of the valleys
Blood has been spilled all around the three quarters
Beautiful young dames have been shamed, and
The angelic innocence of children has been robbed
Dignity of the wrinkled man, and
Honor of the wailing woman
The crying church,
The moaning mosque, and
The wailing wall … calling on you,
The man of slumber in the stars, and
The woman of colors in the stripes
O’ for the day that has not “yet” died!
Shakeel Syed – Jerusalem – June 6
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