Kanoon Poem by Taher Shemaly

And the strings played the harmony
over the wooden chest of Kanoon
And let the dancing harem be merry
no prayers at sunset nor at noon
No cries to be heard and not a worry
and the party will not finish so soon
While the old book of history
shall record the events with the moon

The hatun of the sultan in her palace
preparing the blooms and many a scent
And the sultan soon will be in his place
to be greeted into his court by a regent
Where lie many a golden dome and faces
Aman Aman! what treasury it was spent?
While the poor fellow trick themselves
into a food they never tasted, or even hit

The book of history records so much
of his bloody streams on the rivers
When the pride of the impalement
was a wedding amid the dancers
Be a friend or a vizier or be as such
for Selim, all are to be some risk takers
Hail and Salam to his highness
bend and pray, and wave with wavers

Thus, when the great arrived in a holy
when roads sprankled with gold and silver
The fatty tables were set among the jolly
everyone was a drinker or so as an eater
While the sultan's face was never smiley
thinking about his desires and bloody fever
Whilst this and that among the so happy
the angry bit an apple, sweeter and neater

The time stopped! and the vizier was looking
while the strings kept the play of the Kanoon
He knew in the apple he kept such poisoning
and the joyfulness swept him with the Kanoon
But who knows now amid the laughing
amid the playful strings of the Kanoon
That Selim is a sultan not anymore into being
while on the bed, lies a weeping-fully hatun
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Kanoon: musical instrument.
hatun: turkish title for women.