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Daylight will Overcome the Night

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He never went to school; neither did he meet any teacher.
He read only one book.

Never drew, never learned poetry, never spoke a foreign language,
He never visited a physician,

My father only used herbal medicine,
He never held spite against people

But he loved them from soul
And he was respected by them all.

All the time, he kept good relationships with his relatives,
He was faithful to his friends,

He never adored property neither did he try to be an owner,
Because he believed that God is the Big Owner,
Life, prestige, titles never deluded him.

He was a real man his land image occupied his mind,
And the sleeping history is still awake in his mind,
He was a real man with compassion and warmth,
It came out of his eyes so you felt safe when he nigh,

He was a real man,
He adored God and loved people.
And love is his road to faithfulness.

He was a real man,
Praying to the merciful God
And he died as a real man.

The days of my father and his dreams,
Together wake up every morning,
Both do not rest even for a while,
They fly on the wings of light then they alight
On the conscience, they still challenge oblivion.

My father is staring at me from behind of the fog of silence,
My father insisted as he is a man,
And he believed in God and in the ’Qura~n.

That land for him is a belief,
He keeps whispering to me,
And sneaks through my arteries as love
Which does not care for sadness,
As sound calling me through silence.

“In this land you have seen the light, grew up with time,
Say it to generations that I love having more children,
Grow up wheat, flowers and children in his land,

I love having more and more children.”
My father didn't leave me any heritage,
Except of his plough,

Which challenges rocks to damage,
Tells the story to the new generation
And embraces the children's dreams.

Even night is so long, so dark, so tough
But children do insist that there life will be lit,
And the sun will rise and daylight will overcome the night,

The green promise will come true it will be wheat and flowers,
Which we all grew,
Birds will for sure come back to their nests.

Lutfi Zaghlul -
Lutfi Zaghlul [Lu’tfy Za’glool] is a Palestinian poet.

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Last Updated on Saturday, 23 December 2006 15:35  

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