My Countrymen - Gibran Khalil Gibran

[NGONGE]

People are the same through the ages.

 

 

My Countrymen

 

 

What do you seek, my countrymen?

Do you desire that I build for

You gorgeous palaces, decorated

With words of empty meaning, or

Temples roofed with dreams? Or

Do you command me to destroy what

The liars and tyrants have built?

Shall I uproot with my fingers

What the hypocrites and the wicked

Have implanted? Speak your insane

Wish!

What is it you would have me do,

My countrymen? Shall I purr like

The kitten to satisfy you, or roar

Like the lion to please myself? I

Have sung for you, but you did not

Dance; I have wept before you, but

You did not cry. Shall I sing and

Weep at the same time?

 

 

Your souls are suffering the pangs

Of hunger, and yet the fruit of

Knowledge is more plentiful than

The stones of the valleys.

Your hearts are withering from

Thirst, and yet the springs of

Life are streaming about your

Homes -- why do you not drink?

 

 

The sea has its ebb and flow,

The moon has its fullness and

Crescents, and the ages have

Their winter and summer, and all

Things vary like the shadow of

An unborn god moving between

Earth and sun, but truth cannot

Be changed, nor will it pass away;

Why, then, do you endeavour to

Disfigure its countenance?

 

 

I have called you in the silence

Of the night to point out the

Glory of the moon and the dignity

Of the stars, but you startled

From your slumber and clutched

Your swords in fear, crying,

"Where is the enemy? We must kill

Him first!" At morningtide, when

The enemy came, I called to you

Again, but now you did not wake

From your slumber, for you were

Locked in fear, wrestling with

The processions of spectres in

Your dreams.

 

 

And I said unto you, "Let us climb

To the mountain top and view the

Beauty of the world." And you

Answered me, saying, "In the depths

Of this valley our fathers lived,

And in its shadows they died, and in

Its caves they were buried. How can

We depart this place for one which

They failed to honour?"

 

 

And I said unto you, "Let us go to

The plain that gives its bounty to

The sea." And you spoke timidly to

Me, saying, "The uproar of the abyss

Will frighten our spirits, and the

Terror of the depths will deaden

Our bodies."

 

 

I have loved you, my countrymen, but

My love for you is painful to me

And useless to you; and today I

Hate you, and hatred is a flood

That sweeps away the dry branches

And quavering houses.

 

 

I have pitied your weakness, my

Countrymen, but my pity has but

Increased your feebleness, exalting

And nourishing slothfulness which

Is vain to life. And today I see

Your infirmity which my soul loathes

And fears.

 

 

I have cried over your humiliation

And submission, and my tears streamed

Like crystalline, but could not sear

Away your stagnant weakness; yet they

Removed the veil from my eyes.

My tears have never reached your

Petrified hearts, but they cleansed

The darkness from my inner self.

 

 

Today I am mocking at your suffering,

For laughter is a raging thunder that

Precedes the tempest and never comes

After it.

 

 

What do you desire, my countrymen?

Do you wish for me to show you

The ghost of your countenance on

The face of still water? Come,

Now, and see how ugly you are!

 

 

Look and meditate! Fear has

Turned your hair grey as the

Ashes, and dissipation has grown

Over your eyes and made them into

Obscured hollows, and cowardice

Has touched your cheeks that now

Appear as dismal pits in the

Valley, and death has kissed

Your lips and left them yellow

As the autumn leaves.

 

 

What is it that you seek, my

Countrymen? What ask you from

Life, who does not any longer

Count you among her children?

Your souls are freezing in the

Clutches of the priests and

Sorcerers, and your bodies

Tremble between the paws of the

Despots and the shedders of

Blood, and your country quakes

Under the marching feet of the

Conquering enemy; what may you

Expect even though you stand

Proudly before the face of the

Sun? Your swords are sheathed

With rust, and your spears are

Broken, and your shields are

Laden with gaps, why, then, do

You stand in the field of battle?

 

 

Hypocrisy is your religion, and

Falsehood is your life, and

Nothingness is your ending; why,

Then, are you living? Is not

Death the sole comfort of the

Miserable?

 

 

Life is a resolution that

Accompanies youth, and a diligence

That follows maturity, and a

Wisdom that pursues senility; but

You, my countrymen, were born old

And weak. And your skins withered

And your heads shrank, whereupon

You become as children, running

Into the mire and casting stones

Upon each other.

 

 

Knowledge is a light, enriching

The warmth of life, and all may

Partake who seek it out; but you,

My countrymen, seek out darkness

And flee the light, awaiting the

Coming of water from the rock,

And your nation's misery is your

Crime. I do not forgive you

Your sins, for you know what you

Are doing.

 

 

Humanity is a brilliant river

Singing its way and carrying with

It the mountains' secrets into

The heart of the sea; but you,

My countrymen, are stagnant

Marshes infested with insects

And vipers.

 

 

The spirit is a sacred blue

Torch, burning and devouring

The dry plants, and growing

With the storm and illuminating

The faces of the goddesses; but

You, my countrymen, your souls

Are like ashes which the winds

Scatter upon the snow, and which

The tempests disperse forever in

The valleys.

 

 

Fear not the phantom of death,

My countrymen, for his greatness

And mercy will refuse to approach

Your smallness; and dread not the

Dagger, for it will decline to be

Lodged in your shallow hearts.

 

 

I hate you, my countrymen, because

You hate glory and greatness. I

Despise you because you despise

Yourselves. I am your enemy, for

You refuse to realize that you are

The enemies of the goddesses.

[NGONGE]

Let me pump this one up again. I’m starting to suspect that Gibran was Somali.

[OG_Girl]

LOL NGONGE...I think we understand the point here

 

Any ways nice piece. Thanks for sharing.

 

Salam

[NGONGE]

قال السماء’ كئيبة ! وتجهÙÙŽÙٌّّّّّما قلت’ ابتسم يكÙÙŠ التجهم ÙÙŠ السماء

قال الصبا ولي ! Ùقلت له ابتسم لن يرجع الأس٠الصبا المتصرما

قال التي كانت سمائي ÙÙŠ الهوي صارت لنÙسي ÙÙŠ الغرام جهنما

خانت عهودي بعد ما ملكتها قلبي، Ùكي٠اطيق ان اتبسما ØŸ

قلت : ابتسم واطرب Ùلو قارنتها قضيت عمرك كله متألما

 

قال الليالي جرعتني علقما قلت : ابتسم ولن جرعت العلقما

Ùعل غيرك ان رآك مرنما طرح الكائبة جانبا Ùˆ ترنما

اتراك تغنم بالتبرم درهما أم انت تخسر بالبشاشة مغنما؟

يا صاح ØŒ لا خطر على Ø´Ùتيك ان تتلثما Ùˆ الوجهأن يتحطما

Ùأضحك Ùإن الشهب تضحك Ùˆ الدجي متلاطم ØŒ ولذا نحب الانجما

قال البشاشة ليس تسعد كائناً يأتي الى الدنيا ويذهب مرغما

قلت ابتسم ما دام بينك Ùˆ الردي شبر Ùإنك بعد لن تتبسما

 

[OG_Girl]

NGONGE, mo kel wa7ed yqder ybtasem... tra ana sayedat alebtesamah al qatellah

 

Nice peice, merci beaucoup.

 

Salam

[NGONGE]

خلاص ما دام ابتديت..خليني اكمل

 

يقول امير الشعراء:

 

برز الثعلب يوماÙÙŠ شعار الواعظينا

Ùمشى ÙÙŠ الارض يهذي ويسب الماكرينا

ويقول الحمد لله اله العالمينا.

ياعباد الله توبوا Ùهو كه٠التائبينا.

وازهدواÙÙŠ الطير ان العيش عيش الزاهدينا.

واطلبوا الديك يؤذن لصلاة الصبح Ùينا.

Ùأتى الديك رسول من امام الناسكينا.

عرض الامر عليه وهو يرجو ان يلينا.

Ùاجاب الديك عذرا ياأضل االمهتدينا.

بلغ الثعلب عني عن جدودي الصالحينا.

عن ذوي التيجان ممن دخل البطن اللعينا.

انهم قالوا وخير القول قول العارÙينا.

مخطيء من ظن يوما ان للثعلب دينا.

 

 

For those that can’t read Arabic:

This is a poem about a fox and a rooster. Apparently, once upon a time, a fox went out to preach! He cursed the wrongdoers and asked them to repent. He advised them to shun birds and told them that the good life is that which spurns all temptation. He then asked them to seek out the rooster and request that he calls the morning prayers. A messenger from the Imam of the devout (The Fox) went out to see the rooster and present him with this request (in the hope that he’ll relent and agree). The rooster replied “ Pardon me, lost soul! Inform the Fox from me and from my virtuous ancestors; those of diadems, which perished in the cursed belly (The fox's belly); that they said (and those who know usually make the best sayings): misguided he who thought that a Fox has a religion!

 

Hope this quick translation will suffice. I’m sure with a bit of time I could have made the whole thing rhyme ( not to an Ahmed Shouqi standard of course).

 

PS

The one before that was all about smiling.

[NGONGE]

Last one for today

 

قال الاصمعي

 

 

صوت صÙير البلـبلي

 

هيج قلب الثـــــــملي

 

المـــــاء والزهر معا

 

مع زهر لحظ المـقلي

 

وانت ياسيدلي وسيدي وموللي

 

 

Ùكم Ùكم تيمني غزيل عقـــــــيقلي

قطÙته من وجنة من لثم ورد الخجلي

Ùقال لا لا لا لا لا وقد غدا مهر ولي

والخـــــــــــــــــــــــــــود مالت طربا

من Ùعل هذا الــــــــــــــــــــــــرجل

وولولت وولولت ولي ولي ياويللي

Ùقــــلت لا تولولي وبين اللؤلؤلي

قالت له حـــــين كذا

انهض وجد بالنـــــــوقلي

ÙˆÙتية سقونني قهوة كالعســـللي

 

 

شممـــتها بانÙÙŠ ازكى من القرنÙلي

ÙÙŠ وسط بســـــــــــــــــــــــتان حلي

بالزهر والســــــــــــــــــــــــــــرور لي

والعود دن دن دنلي والطبل طب طب طبلي

طبطبطب طبطبطب طبطبطب طبطبلي

والســق٠سق سق ســـــقلي

والرقـــــــــص قد طاب الي

 

شوا شوا وشاهشو على ورق سÙرجلي

وغرد القمري يصيح من ملل ÙÙŠ مللي

ولو تراني راكبا على حــــــمار اهزلي

يمشي على ثلاثة كمشية العرنجــــــــلي

والناس ترجم جملي ÙÙŠ السوق بالقلقللي

والكل كعكع كعكع خلÙÙŠ ومن حويلللي

لكن مشيتها ربا من خشية العقنقلي

الى لقاء ملك معظم مبــــــــجلي

يأمرلي بخلعة حمرا كادمدملي

اجر Ùيها ماشيا مبغدد لذيلي

انا الاديب الالمعي من حي ارض الموصلي

نظمة قطــــــعا زخرÙا يعجز عنه الادبلي

اقول ÙÙŠ مطلعها صوت صÙير البلبلي

 

[OG_Girl]

Nice one . I would share with you this piece By Nazar Qabani.

 

I Have No Power

 

"I have no power to change you

or explain your ways

Never believe a man can change a woman

Those men are pretenders

who think

that they created woman

from one of their ribs

Woman does not emerge from a man's rib's, not ever,

it's he who emerges from her womb

like a fish rising from depths of water

and like streams that branch away from a river

It's he who circles the sun of her eyes

and imagines he is fixed in place

 

I have no power to tame you

or domesticate you

or mitigate your first instincts

This task is impossible

I've tested my intelligence on you

also my dumbness

Nothing worked with you, neither guidance

nor temptation

Stay primitive as you are

 

I have no power to break your habits

for thirty years you have been like this

for three hundred years

a storm trapping in a bottle

a body by nature sensing the scent of a man

assaults it by nature

triumphs over it by nature

 

Never believe what a man says about himself

that he is the one who makes the poems

and makes the children

It is the woman who writes the poems

and the man who signs his name to them

It is the woman who bears the children

and the man who signs at the maternity hospital

that he is the father

 

I have no power to change your nature

my books are of no use to you

and my convictions do not convince you

nor does my fatherly council do you any good

you are the queen of anarchy, of madness, of belonging

to no one

Stay that way

You are the tree of femininity that grows in the dark

needs no sun or water

you the sea princess who has loved all men

and loved no one

slept with all men ... and slept with no one

you are the Bedouin woman who went with all the tribes

and returned a virgin

Stay that way."

 

Salam