By Ayat al-Qarmez
[First of all I wish to send a short message to those who think they are able to dance over our pains and base them upon sectarian strife and above all to the one-eyed channel (Bahrain TV)]
We do not wish to live in a palace nor do we yearn for leadership,
We are a nation that slays humiliation and assassinates misery,
We are a nation that demolishes injustice peacefully from its foundations,
We are a nation that doesn’t want this nation to remain at a constant setback,
[I shall start reciting my poem and will prey upon an individual who is the one of the main causes of injustice in this country: Yes, it is their King Hamad!]
At the dining table of this nation’s calamities sits Satan and Hamad,
And from there this conversation takes place:
O Hamad! Fear Allah when you deal with them!
For my heart is breaking over what you are doing to them,
Despite being Satan you have made me side with them!
Do so now before I turn against you and prostrate to their Prophet!
And return to my Lord I shall for I am bewildered by their struggle.
O partner you have taught me of how discredit them,
With humiliation, insults and calamities I have learnt from you bestow upon them,
And now O Satan you have come to intercede for them?!
It seems their awareness and ability to disobey has shaken your identity!
Yes O Hamad your nation has shocked me!
And yet you do not pay any attention to what they say!
Do not pay any attention to their chants, calls and the sound of their horns.
“Down with Hamad!”
Do you not see the masses of people gathered together?
I will not be surprised if the Messiah is amongst them!
Who listens to their complains, their struggle,
Their each and every footstep,
Be careful O Hamad! For I warn you.
With all your wealth you will never be able to bribe your nation.
Hold on O dear Satan,
I have not yet finished filling my stomach with their blood,
I have not yet naturalised the rest of my family, friends and their women,
I have not yet instructed all my fellow thugs,
To become birth-giving machines where mother and father work together while my other thugs collide with them also!
I have not yet finished forcing every candle of dreams (youth) on this motherland,
To each traffic light he stands,
Begging each passerby,
“Please buy these water bottles from me”
While nobody responds to his call,
I have not yet finished torturing every turbaned man on this land,
Every youth and child,
Nor have I yet finished stamping upon the flowers of youth inside my prisons,
I have not yet finished opening a million routes to humiliation,
Nor have I yet finished putting this entire nation into a state of lamenting,
Not yet O Satan has the number of youths with martyrdom upon their chests heightened!
With no job nor occupation held
Forget them! They deserve it!
I have not yet finished paying each south-Asian on this precious land,
To hold our flag up (at pro-government rallies) shouting
in a poor Arabic accent: Long lives the father of Salman!
I have not yet finished sucking blood from flat to flat with the burden of bills,
Meanwhile the thugs have lands and houses,
But not to worry those affected don’t exceed 120 in number,
I doubt anyone will be able to hear their cries.