Translated by: Wael AbdAlmageed
To Colin Kaepernick, who said “no” to racial injustice and never played again— Wael
First Stanza
Glory belongs to Satan;
the deity of the wind
Refused to bow, defying who did
Taught mankind tearing the angst of the nonexistent, apart
Refused to bow, and never died
A soul, lingering with eternal pain
Second Stanza
Hung am I, on the morning gallows
My forehead, lifeless, tilted
For never have I, alive, tilted it
O’ Kin;
passing, demeaned and muted, across main square
stumbling, at dusk, down the Avenue of Alexander The Great
disgraced be not, and look me in the eyne
Hung are ye,
next to me,
on the gallows of the Emperor
Look me in the eyne
Perhaps, if thy eyne
meet death in mine,
smiles my perishing soul, for ye,
for once,
have dared to raise thy heads
Sisyphus is no longer chastened
Eternally carrying the stone on his shoulders
Carrying it now, are those born in the bedrooms of slaves
And the ocean, just like the desert, does not quench thirst
For those, who say no, shall only be quenched by tears
Lift thy eyne, to the hung rebel
for ye shall end up like him, tomorrow
And embrace your spouses, right here, on the road
for ye shall be hung, right here, tomorrow
Bitter is bowing
And the spider, on the neck of men, is weaving doom
Embrace your spouses
I left my spouse without adieu
And if ye find my child, I left on her arm, armless,
show him how to bow
show him how to bow
God has not forgiven Satan, for Satan have said no
And the sheepish innocent,
inherit the land, at the end of times
for they do not end up, hung
So, show him how to bow
There is no escape
Dare not fantasize a merry world
After the death of every Emperor,
ther shall be a new Emperor
And after the death of every rebel,
vain sorrow and a futile tear
Third Stanza
O’ Glorious Emperor, I confess
I have sinned
Hung on my gallow, I plead to thee,
allow me to kiss thy hand
Here am I, kissing the rope encircling my neck
The rope betokens thy will;
thy glory, that compels us to worship thee
I plead to thee, let me amend my sin
granting thee, after my demise, my skull
Mold it a cup for thy drink
And if thou avow,
if thee ever asked about my martyred blood,
or have thee granted me life just to take my life?!
say, “He died with no grudges anent me.
And this cup, whose bones were his skull,
is my indulgence”
O’ Killer, absolve I thee
The moment thee felt allayed of me,
Allayed I felt of thee
Though, I appeal
Shall thee will to hang everyone,
merciful be to the trees
Cut no trunks to erect the gallows
Cut no trunks
Lest, spring may dawn in the famine,
and shall not ther be fruits on the branches for thee to smell
Or the fatal summer may loom on the lands,
and thou shall have to cross the Saharas,
looking for the shade
merely finding heat and dunes
and heat and dunes
and fiery thirst in the ribs
O’ Master of the white tombstones,
in the darkness of nights
O’ Emperor of the blizzards
Fourth Stanza
O’ Kin
passing across main square, bowing
stumbling, at dusk, down the roads
dare not fantasize a merry world
For, after the death of every Emperor,
ther shall be a new Emperor
And if ye meet, while descending, Hannibal,
tell him I have waited for him
at the gates of weary Rome
And the elders of Rome, under the Arch of Titus,
have waited for the annihilator of the heroes
And the Roman women, in their ravishing makeup,
have waited for the fighters with the wrinkled atlassian faces
But the armed fighters of Hannibal’s never came
Tell him I have waited for him,
waited for him
But he never came
I waited for him,
until I ended up in the ropes of death
And on the horizon, ablaze is Carthage
Carthage was the heart of the sun
has learned how to bow
And the spider is on the neck of men
And suffocating are the words
O’ Kin,
Carthage, the virgin, is ablaze
Embrace your spouses
I left my spouse without adieu
And if ye find my child, I left on her arm, armless,
show him how to bow
Show him how to bow
Show him how to bow
Pittsburgh, October 9, 2021
Translating Amal 
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