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from The Utopia of Cemeteries
Unpainted walls,
stone filled ground
fragile bones not even able to stand
and my bones are stuck in the middle
I am thinking of a small demonstration
to protest against the angels
who deprived us of the necessary calcium
God is above the ditch extending His shadow over us
and letting us sleep late
A drop of light falls from His hands
A darkened body enters
The drop dries
and we get to know our new colleague
with an open heart.
He gives us cigarettes with extra generosity
We like his voice when he mutters:
“What the hell is happening here?”
Ahmad Yamani, Egypt
from Beruit 39: New Writing from the Arab World, edited by Samuel Shimon, Bloomsbury Press, 2010
I’ve been pouring over anthologies of Arab literature and hope to have some reviews coming up. Meanwhile, I liked this poem from Egypt, or perhaps Spain, where the writer, Ahmad Yamani, born in 1970, is now studying.
A taste of pro democratic poem
Suppression, I accept not
– Bhuwan Thapaliya
I came
into this world
not like the river
but like a drop of water
and will soon evaporate
Though,
I am only
a drop of water
in the majestic ocean
of nature
I yearn
to create
a vigorous ripple
of freedom,
in the eternity of the water
For I am a man
of eternal freedom,
and suppression
I accept not …
I will not accept it
The living God
within me urges
me to be free, and to
march on the road
of freedom sans any dread
My heart,
like Einstein,
thinks in another dimension
unknown and unknowable …
even to my own mind
And like Goethe,
looks at things
in a different manner,
different than those thinkers
bestowed with pristine minds
Freedom,
the gift of God,
is the inherent right
of every individual
in this compressed world
I will fight
till the end
to free the masses
from the grip of suppression
and ignite the lamp of freedom
I will free the masses
or die in the attempt
but I will never
live to see
the naked dance of repression
I am not afraid
of those suppressors,
nor am I afraid of the death
that they are planning for me;
they can kill me but not freedom forever
My blood boils
whenever I see the strong ones
pulverising the lean, and my heart cries
whenever I see the starving pauper
in the abattoir of the prosperous butcher
For me
a red rose is a red rose
it is not white
just because they call it white
to disguise the ignorant
They can
conquer Everest
but not my spirit
they can stagnate the river
but not my impetus
They can
take my
sight away
but not
my vision of freedom
They can
cut my
tongue into pieces
but not
my voice of freedom
They can
stab me with the
dagger of despotism
but not impede
the blood of freedom
I know
the road to freedom
is blocked with obstacles
but obstacles cause no despair
if they are encountered with hope
We must act now
and not merely
just look away
when our freedom
is threatened from within
Because
it is better
to perish without freedom
than to have a yearn for freedom
but not the valour to harvest it
Don’t be a coward …
Be prepared to receive
bullets to your chest
because, in the struggle
of freedom, tolerance
of suppression is an offence
Stand up … stand up
Gather your courage. Come out
into the field; let’s march hand in
hand together, right beneath the
nose of the suppressors, for the
emancipation of our freedom
Let us not forget that …
The ocean is composed of drops
of water, and all drops possess
equal potentials, but only, when
they mix with other drops do
they form a powerful bond
So …
Listen, my oppressed brothers
listen, my trodden sisters
listen … listen
to the natural desire
of your ceaseless soul
do not fear
trust your soul
and march ahead
with a resolute heart
for the better tomorrow
And scatter
the seeds of freedom,
where does it go?
it does not matter
scatter it more with hope
Welcome the freedom
welcome it today
and enjoy it evermore
but do not use your freedom
to suppress the people’s soul
to suppress the people’s soul