TS (17/8/1980 / Kuwait)

Raffeel (The Four Kingdoms)

A ye, in the beginning of the beginning
in praising of Almighty, Lord of heavens
My tongue shall be working and roaming
about His favours and the pulse of sense
Then after praising, come O seeker of storytelling
and listen to a history beyond the existance
When and where treachery and cruelty did a swing
not afore the thought nor a set for some instance

Mention O storyteller the four of them
four they were, they are, and four they will
Kingdoms of height and fame, of the strong stem
for might and power they were heirs and still
And in the middle of them sat the mount so dim
Jabashdar(1) was it called and sooner out of hell
Gebra of the north with southern limits to Mishurim
while east and west for Damacania and Avarith hold still

Our story goes beyond the limits of time in here
something was kept in mind for long and locked in a seal
A song for the devil when it comes so to hear
and a lament for goodness' injuries that will never heal
So heavy for the eyes to bear and so on for the ear
the tidings that took place in this place over the zeal
Thus the news come and go from the far and near
around one man from the desert, the so-called Raffeel

Jabashdar was his home and destiny and dome
a nomad lived and nomad will be and a barbarian lived
Of the life, forgot its colors and away was its bloom
and one language he would understand and comprehend
That is the strikes of the metals with its blackish doom
along the way of the ongoing death that he would send
This is Raffeel O sleepy listener of ever-lasting gloom
laugh or cry, by God, he cares not, but to make you bend

In a time out of time, when time has no time to tell
my beloved kingdoms were not beloved by the hate
Crushed in the hatred and hatred crushed them still
no time to argue or tell a story, or even to debate
Go! Go! O heroes of the might and heaven's hell
kill each other and no tear dropp nor cry shall wait
And when dangers come with your eyes in the shell
cry no more for no time to cry or to love and hate

Thus, in a time when night was in its middle
the eyes were shut and with dreams are soaked
Came the sounds of the dirty hooves to break the fiddle
and to nightmares, the dreams of reality went and walked
Here comes the angel of death with happiness and a whistle
no bugle of war and no trumpet was shouting for the wretched
And when it was all said and done in a sound so brittle
The Raffeel stood on the corpses with a smile so wicked

Do not ask about the deeds of the hooves
nor the men of the man nor what their swords did
It was but a shout of Hesh Hesh(2) over the grooves
and for life do not ask then and for it do not attend
And the three men of Raffeel awaiting for what he approves
and what not to let alive or what to break and what to bend
Then to peace say goodbye and do not seek its lovely doves
Salúd and Shádúd, accompanied by Shayrúd(3) , the men of wind

Ask for testimonials from the iron and the gallows
about the deeds of the three and their lord before
For time tells in time before the time that follows
in the past tense of this living and the history that bore
The three were loyals to the blood and its lust that flows
and happiness they seek in heads smashed and tore
What a reputation on the side of humanity worths a pause
hallelujah, shout and sing with a cry and a soul so sore

What comes to the eye after the night is gone
mentionless to be and unrecoradable or to sense
To the dust the glory went and to ground it was done
no stone on a stone, nor a home stands, not a fence
The crow of sadness itself had to sing by its own
and no one to shed a tear amid that blood so dense
Just to look to the marbles and how to hut they were blown
and you shall know the meaning of the harsh and tense

The morning testifies with its glory and light
how the gloom cried for the hardships of men
While the echoes of the strikes and the fight
are still visible in the horizon on every glen
Where is Gebra the green and Mishurim of might
while Damacania and Avarith are what but a den
Weep O weeper but wish not for destiny to sight
the sensitivity of its ego and the pride of its sin

Dum! Dum! Anná E-Dum? (4) , he shouted with a laugh
the man of iron and copper, with a sword and an axe
No mercy he did spare for a woman nor a man of staff
and no children bore the burden of purity but only blacks
Amid the corpses, walk and see and think over the clough
where the smell of death tickles the nose and stabs the backs
The tear dried out of the tear and mourning is the love
and the scent of the blood remains where life for life lacks

And now move to the palace of the golden dream
where the murderers dance over the agony and pain
Proud of their glory that they sent over the beam
the beam of the gallows and the avatar of the slain
And while performing with such a shameless esteem
they step over the skulls of the unfortunate and the brain
Follow the smiles and laughters with the waltz of the team
the three rocks around the lord of fear, the lord so insane

And yet see the noble ladies of the scarlet and the blue
from high to low they came and to the ground they flew
What but maids and servants they were made so new
do not bother to ask or follow the news from whoever knew
What gold or silver now away from the freedom so true
but a bunch of useless matters in the face of the hue
Slavery and its consequences are there for no clue
as the kingdoms are one, and one must be forever so

The laughters continued and so did the clinks of the glass
with the shouts of 'E-Musayqah! E-Musayqah! '(5) that echoed
And the blood-like wine spread among the gigantic mass
and the smell of joy and agony intertwined and lassoed
Who cares now for a tear, or happiness or the harsh brass
or who to care about the cries and laughters, or the valued
The merriness just travels in the minds like on the grass
and the stain of happiness is stuck on the minds it followed

Hark! O listen you sleeper in the sweetest honey
the woes of the bugles and trumpets are here and soon
Hark! and listen carefully, this is the hateful melodey
and from afar you can see the march of a dragoon
Hark! and listen with fear, for the continued medley
and look to the sky and its sun, are not but a moon
Here comes now the man of standards so highly
but a blood-seeker as well, that is The Gwffgarion

Thus, from the beginning, the beginning of an end comes
by the mangle of the men and the iron mixed with the brass
With the clinks of the swords and spears, and the bones
and the smell of the crimson blood crashing into the grass
O Heroes of the old times that lasted but for some seconds
how many moments did you count and how much for a glance
Like the kingdoms seized, they are now down to the stones
no matter how long they are taken, no matter how was the stance

O dear lover of the cruelty and its mansion of the red
like you take, so to be taken later, you are on the reel
What life is but a lie that has just been drawn on a grid
and what plans are but to betray or so they are to steal
Be careful my beloved from the hooves of destiny, the horrid
sooner or later it will become with you here so to feel
Like life did for the four in that imagination, the so-vivid
Gwffgarion comes after a while, and so goodbye to Raffeel
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(1) : Jabashdar: Ayvarith: The Dry Place.
(2) : Hesh Hesh: Ayvarith: 'Let's go! , Come on! '
(3) : Generals of Raffeel.
(4) : Ayvarith: Blood! Blood! Where is The Blood?
(5) : Ayvarith: The Music! The Music!
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by Taher Shemaly

Other poems of SHEMALY (153)

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