The Martyr's Choirs Poem by Ali Amylian

The Martyr's Choirs



'The Martyr's Choirs.'
By Ali Makki aka Amylian



Here I sing, here I beseech:

Branches of the heedless moon sing,
And heartedly dry out our tears within,
So draw thy sword, oh loveless wind.
Howl upon the pool of tears,
Swing back and forth, strip out our fears.


Here my harp plays:

Shotguns, Sonic bombs, Tear gas, live rounds,
So strongly we face the sound of this music
To make the best for our days.


Here are my choirs:

Oh my Freedom Fighters, ye gracious souls,
I suffered a glorious death, yet I am born dignified again,
I remember the faces cold,
I remember when they hunt you,
I remember when you awake,
I remember when you achieve victory.
I remember when I sharpened the prelude to the tyrant’s end.

How serene,
How generous,
How lovely is this grave,
How pure those lilies.

Here I am delighted; no repulsive pain,
Remember, I have died, to make a better future,
To shape a true, and a happy Bahrain.

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