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A Stone that Hits or Eludes
By: Talaat Skairek

A stone, some water, an ear of corn,

The bullets of a song, throwing lights:

A star above the horizon, climbing the heights;

The small boy's hand is bleeding, torn

Yet full of promises, never wavering,

Like green leaves, trembling, not withering

The boy's hands, like towering plam-trees

Waved the world's stones in the breeze.

Like two poems, a bomb, an ear of corn

From which a happy tomorrow was born

And birds, fields, rain, and the tone

Of singing nightengales, throbbing waves

Like the oranges, the houses, the boy braves

Every peril, and while he proudly walks

In throngs in the streets, he will awaken

Aspirations, roots, history, dream, all shaken

To anew life, moving, transcending,

Baptized in blood, towering, ascending,

Taking the trees, embracing the stones !

Dews and violets feed at his bones

He has cleft perdition asunder,

Bringing the sun, smiling from the thunder.

A stone that eludes, then suddenly hits,

Wearing fingerprints, like a uniform, fits,

In the hand of a freedom fighter, a muzzle

Of a firing gun, that mystifies like a puzzle,

Filling the earth, spaceand wind with thunder,

Exploding from nowhere, to make enemies wonder!

A stone thrown along the road by young ran gars,

Reviving the history of all displaced "strangers".

Filling tee streets of Palestine with fire,

And alarming the world, proclaiming our ire.

A stone revives houses and old memories,

Telling a long history of Palestinian stories,

Wearing the colours of fields, mountains,

Heralding da wn o ver our sweet fountains. !

A stone that passes whizzing over fields,

Becoming the song of our land, and shields

Our past and future from the prying eyes

Of alien usurpers, while we rise

Even in martyrdom, on white horses,

Bringing back our valiant, roaring forces.

Reviving the wedding day of my grandfather

Asserting that our land is not for sale or barter

Yes hall never paas

There is a hidden secret in our soil

That we have fed with diligent toil

Ye shall never paas !

The trees, the streams tell the story of our life,

Which has been full of strong strife

We shall protect Palestine with the sword,

Because it is our destiny, our reward

Ye shall never pass

We belong to a strong, tough pedigree.

We are as old as our bold Galilee.

A stone tells the story of promising rain,

Showing that our struggle is not in vain.

A stone that hits, whizzing past, eludes,

A stone whose epic my grandfather concludes:

That our people shall never fear death,

And the long night brings dawn's breath

Over Acre, over the smiling palms:

My grandfather had no fears or qualms

He advised us never to cry, grieve or moan

But to tighten our fists on every stone

He himself fought and never left the stone.

He himself fought and never left the stone.