For Algeria to live

A social poem

 

* 1 *

I read in your eyes the tragedy of Algeria. I see the bitterness in them and I see the sadness. Your birthday comes without the candles blazing or the smell of roses spreads. You are alone without a good companion or a commensal. Just the silence that plays his melodies aloud. The heart, ground by the mill of sorrow, because Algeria is wounded. It bleeds. Sedition, chase our dear sons, and distort the dream of the pioneers

* 2 *

Today goes, like yesterday, the morning comes as the evening. It does not carry in his hands neither sun nor light. Darkness crouched on the atmosphere, blocking horizons.

* 3 *

Darkness gives birth to bats, red turbans and charlatans. It gives birth to rifles, fires, dungeons and guillotines.

* 4 *

Faqihs with red turbans call for the stoning of chaste women, the slaughter of virgin girls and the assassination of the writer and his words

* 5 *

All rotten cellars had been opened. All foul wells had been uncovered. All bats of hatred and hateful microbes came out, to devour love, to break the peace and to spread all the kinds of epidemics.

* 6 *

Love has one face, childish, eternal. Hatred lives in a thousand masks, and faces of all kinds. Religious, linguistic, ethnic, nationalistic, partisan and regional hate. Hatred lives with or without a face.

* 7 *

Hatred has penetrated hearts, flowed from the corners of the mouths, and appeared on the eyes.

* 8 *

All words had been taken from the dictionary of hatred. All melodies resonate with the roar of firearms and the clatter of white weapons. All the colors were murdered. Only the red remains

* 9 *

The flow of blood does not stop. It crawls and continues to crawl, bleeding from a wound that never dries up, submerging our past and our present and hiding all our virtues. Moreover, by this flow of blood we are known and described.

* 10 *

You who prepare wood and blow in the flame with your words and your speeches. If you sow the cyclone, you will reap the destruction

* 11 *

Our children, our dear children are fighting. We are the killers and the killed. When we admit that the killed, all the killed are ours? Those mistakes, all mistakes are our sins. When do we know that life is short in order to pass it in counting our victims?

* 12 *

Who convinces the supporters of hatred that religion is simply love? That the spirit of language is also love. That we can build with the other, whoever is a bridge of love? For everyone could love each other without regard to their countries, social classes and their races.

* 13 *

Who will extinguish the fire and prevent sparks? Who makes flowers grow in the hand of destruction? Who considers love his shipmaster, his way and his minaret? Who prefers dialogue honestly instead of exclusivity of decision? Who removes the banner of hatred and hostility so that hearts, minds and eyes see the light of day?

* 14 *

The buds of hope must blossom in the soul, and the sun rises to conquer epidemics and diseases. Bridges must be connected among lovers of the homeland, all lovers of homeland with the language of forgiveness, love and reconciliation for Algeria to live

To see the original poem in Arabic click here:  من أجل أن تحيا الجزائر