Palestine in my heart
Palestine in my heart
Will the woods tremble like a lapwing
at the sight of the bomber planes?
Will the huge trees fall and lie prostrate
on the ground?
Is military might, then, the ultimate truth?
Is that why America’s voice declares
in an unfailing chorus
the right of the mighty and the powerful
to enjoy all the fruits of the earth?
Is there nothing else, no other voice,
no different tune, no untamed utterance?
O the rains of Sravana night,
what deep message do you bring to my heart?
Your resonant sound does not bring to my sleepless eyes
the dream of any Nijhum island.
My eyes only see raped, endangered, weary Palestine,
and my heart bleeds as it hears the cries
of your subjugated mothers grieving for their children.
America may sing the unfailing chorus
about the right of the mighty
to enjoy the fruits of this earth,
its voice may imperil the conscience
of all the monarchs of this world,
they may join Bush’s voice
and like a herd of jackals
bark in unison,
But I do not care a bit.
I shall perform my ablution
with the blood of martyred Palestinians,
go up and stand erect on Mt. Sinai
and give a heroic Azan in a voice
that will make the horizon tremble.
I’ll give the call of discarding
all goods produced by racists,
I’ll take an oath by the blood of the martyrs
and declare that the third world
will be the final pyre of all racist regimes.
No fear lurks in my breast,
no grief clutches at my heart.
In my heart only love shines.
A wild emotion urges me
to sacrifice myself.
I have a colossal debt to those
plundered homeless people.
In my heart glows
a death- defying luminous Palestine.
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(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
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Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
(1207 - 1273)
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