I’m Saying The Truth He’s imbrued in blood! Yea, it’s the smile, The border line between Your demise and life! It wound is like a tattoo, A remote coast That you cannot descry! I’m imbrued in its dream, Thrusting its sword Notwithstanding the dead cells, He’s half revolting, half dead, Refusing to die Till he become well-nigh, Getting closer to the dream, Till he marries off all girls! Whenever he passes by the graves, He offers greetings to the dead, He sets the earth ablaze in yearnings, To adore the truth! He said, “You should adore your homeland An innate love seeps in your veins, Since your birth! Verily, you must love your homeland, Being an adorer who dies of love, For the sake of love! It was said, in love you can outline your doom! ----------------------- He, imbrued in blood, Coming back to cemeteries, Upon attaining liberation! Everything has change! Myriad men have passed away, yet The alive revolter has not yet died; He who has decided at the decisive moment Between what you are, And what you want to be! =========================== The decisive moment needs you alone; (The moment of despair; nothing seems new) The moment of quest that seeks the words of salvation. I have no choice You, alone, can predict, To anticipate and expect! You are the warrior How come you sail alone against the tide? How could you give up your lifetime, To hunt scorpions How could you cross the depth of this distress, Without any lifeboats? May peace inundate each passenger! May peace deluge Those who taught us to speak, To fight and challenge, To unsheathe the sword And decipher talismans! He, Imbrued in blood, Coming back to cemeteries, Or half asleep, Half dead, Half resistant! ***** The speech is to be continued! Every year we are all here, While the springs are depleted! And decomposition of talismans He is included in his blood Or semi-asleep Half in death Half resist ***** To talk the rest Every year you and we are illusionists When the appointed man Many have revolted till we arrived At the distant sunlight! All the knights are sitting on their steeds Above the horses To revert the plot! Many men have passed, Saying words like my poems! You are my mother, my lifetime, All my treasure! You alone are my treasure! I could not bet on my mother’s love And in my distant memories You are my fear and my safety! My last refuge If death in love has blossomed! You are, in the presence of love, All lovers are lilies, and jasmines! You are my sweet orchard, The best of my epithets Maternity, and comrade! I went back from where I came I stood before you, stammering! So please, my mother Excuse me Because I’m saying the truth!