That Evening Poem by Salah Abdel Sabour

You spoke to me
Of winged horse-shoes
Sparking all round,
Flashing, igniting
The golden crescents
Of city minarets;
You spoke to me
Of a bunch of swords hard,
Stuck in a rock so stark,
To be drawn only on a spell:
Namely, the names, the charmed names of
your bunch,
How great, how formidable,
How good, how nice, how sweet - uncon querable!
`0 minstrel', you ordered, `Sing us a song
`(But keep your eyes down
`In our presence)
`Sing us a lay
`To tickle our pride
`In the victory of the side,
`And when the appointed hour comes
`(An hour unveiled
`By a cloud dispelled)
`We'll drink up the dregs
`When the devil's helmet begs
`To be a goblet bright
`For the wine of superior knight'.