A monsieur le forestier
Tout notre amour et respect
Si noble dans son aspect
Il garde la forêt, abrite les bois
Chante avec les rossignoles avec foi ,
Et plante l’Arganier avec joie ,
La flore et la faune reconnaissent sa voix
Et oui, c’est le cavalier du parc de Souss Massa
Et le cavalier de mon cœur, à la fois !
Tribute to M’hmed BOUDYAF,
Forest ranger (1949-2006)
The thunder roared in a dark stormy night
The silver-grey hues couldn’t help but be bright
The sky was like an opera stage
The clouds in prison twisted out of rage
The rain danced like a ballet dancer
While the lightning was the main actor
The room, so empty, nothing but a bed
The sheets once carmine were now a light hue of red
The contractions felt like a thousand knife
Despoiling and dismantling and depriving the mother’s life
In this organized chaos, water dripped down signaling your arrival
And the swans and hummingbirds sang like angels from the bible
Two bodies into one, two souls, two heartbeats
Never have they foreseen the day they’ll meet
Their blessed union have seen the light
To be the reason for you to be so delight
With a gentle smile, I told your mother not to worry
There is no need to rush things or be in a hurry
It’s time to pray, breath and push
To finally see your face, like a rose in a bush
With a little squeak, you came sliding into my hand
And your mother with joy shed tears like clear sand
I felt like the sunshine rose for the for time
And it intrigued me to see you in your prime
Hush, hush, don’t cry and be reassured
Your mother will bounce up and be cured
She will always show you affection
Even though you might lose direction
I wish all the best in the world
You little thing in a soft blanket curled.
Born to a far off small land
That is greedy
Who always wants to expand
And always so needy
To stretch its tiny arms
And doesn’t want to sign a stupid treaty
Causing a thousand harms
The pain it causes may fit it like a glove
With still unhealed scars
But its my land that I do love
And like my tiny state
The consequences are the ones that I loathe
I wish for nobody to meet such sad fate
No one knows what kind of destiny awaits
What thoughts exist inside that head of yours?
You doubt, you dread, lie motionless in bed.
Some light or dark or some hapless horrors
Run round and round like ghosts that aren’t dead.
Your eye, no warmth, only madness expressed
But once upon a time, there was a glint
Of flame and fire and being obsessed
Possessed by days of ole, a mere short stint
So lying still on hard mattresses
In a lonely ghost town run underground
Breathing heavy with pain that buttresses
Perfume from senses and music from sound
In sadness, frozen, black birds catch my eye.
I flew with cawing crows to crests on high.
Where did you go when you stepped through that looking glass?
Leaving only shards of your image, shattered remnants of the past.
Did you find what you were looking for when your soul took flight?
Did you meet rest as your eyes closed one last night?
Leaving only shards of your image, shattered remnants of the past.
A black hole formed, sucking light and breath, leaving only ash.
Did you meet rest as your eyes closed one last night?
Leaving devastation and reoccurring grief my constant plight.
A black hole formed, sucking light and breath, leaving only ash.
The beast of my soul screamed in protest from the whip lash.
Leaving devastation and reoccurring grief my constant plight.
No chance at redemption for all the wisdom gained in hindsight.
The beast of my soul screamed in protest from the whip lash.
I call to you to reclaim the guilt hung round my neck like a sash.
No chance at redemption for all the wisdom gained in hindsight.
The image of your face, just a flicker, makes my chest tight.
Where did you go when you stepped through that looking glass?
Did you find what you were looking for when your soul took flight?
Since the beginning of time, mankind slaved.
To labor, like beasts of burden, the fields of life.
For lingering centuries had departed.
Yet woven the destiny of the aphorized.
To fill chalice with blood of strife.
Since the beginning of time, mankind slaved.
Of fire they are and of the love that blazed.
They built the pyre to keep the flame safe.
For lingering centuries had departed.
Muscle, from suffering it is churned.
Heart, from worship, from passionate wife.
Since the beginning of time, mankind slaved.
Death encountered mankind so refined
Toxic vain and deleterious disbelief
For lingering centuries had departed
For the world, for centuries, had hurtled.
And the springtime has the favorable mischief.
Since the beginning of time, mankind slaved
For lingering centuries had departed.
All alone in my inspiration cave
I drink art like vintage wine
It turns me wild, it turns me brave
Like a shooting star not spooked to shine
I drink art like vintage wine
It melts the sturdy chains of a slave
Like a shooting star not spooked to shine
Like a repentant soul no longer depraved
It melts the sturdy chains of a slave
It unleashes the beast to cross the redline
Like a repentant soul no longer depraved
As if melodies could purify sins and crimes
It unleashes the beast to cross the redline
It gives back life to the dusty graves
As if melodies could purify sins and crimes
As if jingles could soothe the ocean waves
It gives back life to the dusty graves
It embellishes even more the beams of sunshine
As if jingles could soothe the ocean waves
As if the universe has now become mine
It embellishes even more the beams of sunshine
It turns me wild, it turns me brave
As if the universe has now become mine
All alone in my inspiration cave
As my vision blurs hazily
An endless possibility
Another me marches ahead
as it spirals from blue to red
Red, a different choice was made
Will the tragedies be replayed?
Had the two towers stood instead
as it spirals from blue to red
Maybe they would still remain here
If someone had bothered to hear
Cries like an animal as it bled
as it spirals from blue to red
As stars dance above in tandem
Fate, cruel mistress of random
Screaming wishes are for the dead
as it spirals from blue to red
On top of the hill. There she sat,
Wearing nothing but a cloak of golden hair.
Singing songs, as the wind lay flat.
A lullaby to which nothing else can compare.
The wind crashed on her visage, and the wind crashed softly,
As the young, lively swallows sang along.
She was goddess of a time which one recalls fondly.
A goddess of beauty with sight withdrawn.
Yet she was a sight to see
Her epitaph was that of grace and musicality
The tides of time set her free
For she was no longer worshipped nor appraised by any man.
Her cult left her for a god of gas and steel,
One of her own infant creations.
And now she sat on top of the hill.
Singing her ballad for the ages.
لله في أفعاله حِكَمٌ لنا فيها عِبَر
قد يُدْركُ المقصودَ بعضُ الناسِ من أهل النظر
و يَغيبُ عن جُلِّ العبادِ فيحسَبوا الإنعامَ مُر
فاصبر اذا اشتدَّ البلاءُ ولا يُرىَ منك الضَجَر
واللهَ فأسأل أن يعين النفسَ حتىَ تنتصر
كانت لنا أمٌ تنادينا إذا حل الصباح
هيا صغاري للصلاةِ، تقولُ حي على الفلاح
قوموا فقد قام الطيورُ بحيِّنا والديكُ صاح
لا ينبغي للمسلمينَ النوم، إنَّ الفجر لاح
و جنودُ ربِ العالمينَ تجهزوا، حمَلوا السلاح
يا ليتنا قمنا كما أمرت وأدركنا النعيم
كانت تربينا – و ما كنا نعي – كي نستقيم
فتقول لا تعصوا الإله فإنه رب كريم
و تمسكوا بمبادئ الاسلام والدين القويم
و دعوا الفواحش والذي يدعوا لها فهو اللئيم
هل تذكروا يوم التففنا حول مائدة الطعام
كنا كفرسان تُعِدُ سيوفَها للالتحام
كلٌ ينافِس جارَه لا تسمعنَّ سوى ارتِطَام
والصمتُ يعلوا الأمَ تجلِسُ قد تجاهَلَتِ الإدام
اليومَ نُدرِكُ صمتَها، ما كان صمتَا بل كلام
فِكْرُ يدور بِقْلبِهَا، حَرمَ الحَبيبَةَ أن تنام
كانت تطوفُ الأرضَ في طَلَبِ الطَعامِ أو الكِساء
لا تعرفُ النومَ الهنيءَ فصبحُها مثل المساء
و فراشَها هجَرت طَوالَ العُمُرِ في بَرْدِ الشِتَاء
و اذا يحُلُ الصيفُ تركُضُ لا تسابقها الظِباء
فننام ملئىَ ما شَعرنا بالشَقاءِ أو العناء
و تجوع أمي يومَها والليلَ تقضي في الدعاء
فادعوا لها بصلاتكم فاللهُ قد سمع النداء
