Tag Archives: History

A Few Days More

A few days more, my dearest, only a few days
We are forced to draw breath in the shadow of tyranny
Bear this injustice a while longer, and tremble, and weep
By our forefathers’ legacy we have been crippled

Our bodies imprisoned, our feelings enchained
Our thoughts captive, our speech sanctioned
Credit to our courage that we still go on living
Is life but a pauper’s loose cloak, on which
Every hour a patch of pain is stitched?

But now the period of cruelty has few days left
A little more patience, our pleading has few days left
A long time in the scorched wilderness of this world
We have to exist, but this is not how we have to live
Alien hands causing unspeakably heavy oppression
Bear it today, but it will not be borne always

This dust of sorrow flames out from your beauty
This the measure of your defeated two-day youth
The pain of the useless glow from moonlit nights
The heart’s pointless beat, the body’s hopeless cry
A few days more, my dearest, only a few days.

( my translation of a poem by Faiz Ahmed Faiz).

(c) Satori Publishing, 2020.

Dawn Of Freedom (August 1947)

This stain-polluted light, this night-ravaged dawn
This is not that break of day yearned for in expectant hope
This is not the dawn whose desired promise we carried forth
We comrades set out convinced of finding somewhere or other
In the celestial desert a haven for the stars to finally come to rest
Somewhere for the night’s slow, lazy waves to lap a distant shore
Somewhere a safe harbour to dock the ship of heartache

The mysterious pathways known only to the blood of youth
When we friends set off so many hands tugged at our clothes
Reaching out from eager bed-chambers in the Abode of Beauty
Open arms enticed us, the siren calls of bodies in heat
Very dear, but all our love was for the vision of dawn
Very near, pure rays of light rising on her glowing robes
Our longing still strong, we shrugged off our fatigue

I have heard that the dark has been separated from the light
I have heard that the journey and destination have been unified
The behaviour of our fellow sufferers has changed full circle
Pleasure of union is now pure, the pain of separation is now impure

Fire in the liver, the vision unfulfilled, the pain of heartburn
The remedies for this severance have no affect on any ailment
Whence came the beauteous morning breeze? Blew away where?
There is no news yet of the lamp at the end of the path
There is no lessening yet in the heavy oppression of the night
The hour has not come for the deliverance of heart and soul
Keep moving … keep moving … our goal has not yet been reached.

( my translation of a poem by Faiz Ahmed Faiz ).

(c) Satori Publishing, 2020.

Shudra

Little Shoodra whispered : Mr President, please
Keep it under your wig, but put the feelers out
Ask, hush-hush, if the Pak really want peace
Sit round a table, negotiate, shuffle things about

Bad Haircut let the cat out of the bag
Slip of the tongue, or a deliberate leak?
Most Powerful Tan in the World, willing to blag
To mediate, to listen to each side squeak

Strategic partner, who will generate maximum profit
Fight our proxy wars, destabilise, and police the region
Milk the sacred cow, and leave behind a sack of shit
Our credentials without a doubt, our motives beyond question

Cat out of the bag, the dung hit the fan
Splatter, splatter … the parliament was in uproar
“ Shoodra, walk your peachy ass here, pronto, and explain
Underhand wheeling-dealing, and bending over like a whore ”.

Silence … silence … running around like a headless chicken
“ Save me, save me, even I cannot handle a knob this big
Save my creamy life, please, my sphincter is panic-stricken ”.
Kautilya’s student picked up a shovel and began to dig

Divert and rule, works without fail to bamboozle
Our election-winning strategy is to incite the mob
Gas cylinders, petrol, pour hate through the nozzle
Targeting the scapegoat Muslim always does the job

Remove the Three-Seventy fig leaf, bare our sharp teeth
Send in extra troops to make a total of nine hundred thousand
Smother the Kashmiris, they must ask permission to breathe
Cut off the internet, every lifeline, every right to their own land

Go out there and flex your fifty-six inch chest
Make flowery speeches, threaten the Pak with total war
Buy Kashmiri land, marry white Kashmiri girls, we are blest
Hindutva rule by any means, all is fair in love and war

‘ Bollywood loves Israel, and Israel loves Bollywood ‘
You love Hitler, you love Mussolini, you practise fascism
Israeli weapons, training, role model, business is good
Ask the Israelis if worshiping Hitler counts as anti-semitism?

Money is yahweh, anything, anyone can be bought and sold
Palestine, the Middle East, Kashmir, all are Muslim
Join forces with the Nazi Hindoo, sell the template, solid gold
Wherever you find a Muslim, do everything to screw him

Little Shoodra, you got your frilly knickers in a twist
Wear a sari in public like you do behind closed doors
Designer clothes, spruced up to the hilt, love your shopping list
Cameras, flashing lights, you love to be on all fours

You spread lies, you spread hate, you spread violence
Fifty-six is your IQ, fifty-six inches is your height
Be man enough to admit you spread the vaseline
Come out of the closet, step naked into the light

Those closest to the ground ache to reach up for the sky
Little Shoodra, you are there to serve the three guys above you
You hate the fact you are born low and have to kiss so high
The Dalit grabbing at your heels to constantly remind you

That’s why you strangle the foreign leaders in a Magic Huggy
“ Love me! Love me! I am your equal in every way ”.
Greasy wog, oiled up, curry breath, repulsively smelly
They cringe, hold their noses, wishing they could run away

Cow slaughter is wrong but human lynching is alright
Israeli inspired concentration camps to exterminate the poor
The weak, disenfranchised, the Darkies, all are in your sight
The flames will not douse no matter how much water you pour

Removing Three-Seventy now applies to each and every state
Trying to be too clever, numbskull, you have set in motion
( Sieg Heil, Fuhrer, you too have ended up in a bunker of hate )
A chain of events, a chainsaw, that will slice up the nation

No matter how many times you are ‘ reincarnated ‘
Trader? No. Warrior? No. You will NEVER be a Brahmin
Your past, present, and future are done and dusted
Shudra, brew a cup of tea, and drink to the hole you are in.

(c) Satori Publishing, 2020.

Jihad Personal

Jihad personal a struggle against worldly temptations
Jihad personal a discipline to strengthen your weakness

The one lesson learned from times of yore
If you want peace — prepare for war

Jihad personal prepares you against the enemy’s attack
Jihad personal trains you to defend by fighting back

Jihad personal prevents you from attacking without reason
Jihad personal prevents you from launching an invasion

Jihad personal studies hard to root out ignorance
Jihad personal trains hard to branch out radiance

Jihad personal, in spite of the fools, is not a political tool
Jihad personal, fully understood, the best qualified school.

(c) Satori Publishing, 2019.

Next Year In Khazaria

Eliezer Ben-Yehuda
Born 1852, in Vitebsk Oblast, Belarus.

Chaim Weizmann
Born 1874, near Pinsk, Belarus.

Vladimir Ze’ev Jabotinsky
Born 1880, in Odessa, Ukraine.

Joseph Trumpeldor
Born 1880, in Pyetigorsk, Russia.

Yitzhak Ben-Zivi
Born 1884, in Poltava, Ukraine.

David Remez
Born 1886, in Kopys, Belarus.

Israel Shochat
Born 1886, in Lyskovo, Belarus.

Alexander Zaid
Born 1886, in Irkutsk Oblast, Serbia.

David Ben-Gurion
Born 1886, in Plonsk, Poland.

Eliyahu Golomb
Born 1893, in Vawkavysk, Belarus.

Moshe Sharett
Born 1894, in Kherson, Ukraine.

Levi Eshkoll
Born 1895, in Kiev, Ukraine.

Golda Meir
Born 1898, in Kiev, Ukraine.

Avraham Stern
Born 1907, in Suwalki, Poland.

Menachem Begin
Born 1913, in Brest, Belarus.

Moshe Dayan
Born 1915, on a kibbutz in Palestine
Parents emigrated from Ukraine.

Yitzhak Shamir
Born 1915, in Ruzhany, Belarus.

Chaim Herzog
Born 1918, in Belfast, Ireland
Father born in Lomza, Poland
Mother born in Latvia.

Yitzhak Rabin
Born 1922, in Jerusalem, Palestine
Father from Ukraine, mother from Belarus.

Shimon Peres
Born 1923, Wiszniew, Belarus.

Ariel Sharon
Born 1928, in Palestine.
Parents emigrated from Belarus.

Benjamin Netanyahu
Born 1949, in Tel Aviv, Israel
Father born in Warsaw, Poland
Mother born in Petah Tikva, Palestine
Grandparents from Belarus.

(c) Satori Publishing, 2018.

Lahore City

Lahore city, the girls so pretty
Lahore city, the girls so pretty
The girls in your city are pretty I’m sure
But in Lahore they’re pretty just a little bit more
Lahore city, the girls so pretty
Lahore city, the girls so pretty.

When you want to get away from every vulture
Take a trip to Lahore, city of historic culture
The jewellery quarter has diamonds and pearls
But nothing as precious as the golden girls
All the parks have peacocks strolling on the lawns
All the gardens have ladies parading their finest gowns
The flowers in bloom will make your heart sigh
You can have heaven without having to die

Lahore city, the girls so pretty
Lahore city, the girls so pretty
The girls in your city are pretty I’m sure
But in Lahore they’re pretty just a little bit more
Lahore city, the girls so pretty
Lahore city, the girls so pretty.

Early in the morning when Lahore is bathed in sunshine
Or at dusk when she seems to be wearing silk so fine
Listen and recite, there’s a poem on every street corner
Every sight and sound sings a song in her honour
Taste the food so lush it has certain powers
Her perfume is sweeter than all the flowers
Every pretty girl you see will make you cry
You can have heaven without having to die

Lahore city, the girls so pretty
Lahore city, the girls so pretty
The girls in your city are pretty I’m sure
But in Lahore they’re pretty just a little bit more
Lahore city, the girls so pretty
Lahore city, the girls so pretty.

Every sense, every emotion magnified
Every nerve in my body electrified
I am wired to every star in the sky
My heart is a kite ready to fly
If you want further proof
Meet me up on the roof
Look at all the sweet angels walking by
You can have heaven without having to die

Lahore city, the girls so pretty
Lahore city, the girls so pretty
The girls in your city are pretty I’m sure
But in Lahore they’re pretty just a little bit more
Lahore city, the girls so pretty
Lahore city, the girls so pretty.

(c) Satori Publishing, 2017.

Splitting Hairs

Alexander the Great and his mule driver both died
And the same thing happened to both …
Yes, but one is nameless
And the other is Immortal
Or, one name is Mule Driver
And the other is Alexander.

(in answer to Marcus Aurelius)

(c) Satori Publishing, 2017.

Historic Law

The rules of the Ages are not fair
History really does not care
About your mother or father
The brother, sister, son or daughter
The uncle, aunt, cousin, or lover
Relative or friend, or other
Factor, such as the clothes you wear
Your house, your car, or your hair
If you were happy or sad
If you behaved, good or bad
If you were kind to an old lady
Or donated to a charity
You made a deal, had a good meal
You earned it, or had to steal
Or the chance that was missed
The girl who was not kissed
All of these are of their time
But they are not FOR ALL TIME
History cares for only one goddamn thing
The one who can give her a good fucking.

(c) Satori Publishing, 2017.

History

The flotsam and jetsam
No concept of Eternity
Fertilizer – forget them
They are history

Time does not care
For Mediocrity
Strip her bare
Conquer History

My name, my name
There is the Victory
The eternal flame
I am History.

(c) Satori Publishing, 2013.