1. O House of Osman, we do not know whether to apologize

    for neglecting your feast, or begin with reproach.

  2. Excuses are a plague that clings to us,

    a cholera that subsides awhile, then spreads.

  3. The fire blazes, and the Nile’s helplessness emboldens it

    against everything, so it leaves nothing and spares nothing.

  4. Yet reproach affords some solace to the soul; and we

    would never reproach you but for our distress and weariness.

  5. Whenever we complained of the oppression of those who overpowered us,

    you called us liars and claimed it was mere insolence.

  6. Today we complain of neither rule nor ruler,

    nor seek your protection from what fate has brought.

  7. Nor do we charge you with warring against nature, since

    against it neither your swords nor your spears avail.

  8. Nor have we asked you for money to provide us

    aid—we have no need of one who is himself in need.

  9. We hope only for some courtesy from you,

    to console us and help us endure these horrors.

  10. The sons of China wept in anguish at news of us,

    yet no report of our plight has stirred you.

  11. O people, your compassion toward us has now become a duty;

    the time has come for you to pardon us and forgive.

  12. If our past offense has displeased you, then what

    has befallen us is deterrent enough from sin.

  13. Could you not recall some service or noble deed of ours,

    if remembrance still has any effect upon your minds?

  14. How often we proclaimed and openly declared our love for you,

    defying those who openly voiced their bitter hatred of you.

  15. They warned us, but we only supported you more openly,

    until you were satisfied; their warnings availed them nothing.

  16. Everyone bound to you by ties of kinship has disowned you,

    and even the deeply frightened now hides his allegiance to you.

  17. We plunged through two storms—one of blackest night and one

    of blood—and trod among the tall spears as they clashed.

  18. We neither remind you of our favors nor taunt you

    with the great deeds of our hands and boast of them.

  19. The bow is yours; from us come the arrow and the string.

    You are the lion, and we its fang and claw.

  20. A feast has come, yet brought the sons of Egypt none

    of what it used to bring—only the anguish they dreaded.

  21. Though you dance for it in delight, they too have danced

    in pain, made drunk by the cup of sorrow.

  22. Though you have lit the lamps of your celebration,

    a blaze of rage is kindled in their hearts.

  23. Though you spend the night casting your eyes over

    the fairest spectacles, they have kept vigil in fear.

  24. Though the music of instruments entertains you at night,

    the wailing women are the people’s song and evening company.

  25. O House of Osman, the world is turning away

    from us and you alike, if lessons go unheeded.

  26. If you persist in estrangement, then your unity

    and ours will be scattered fragments among our foes.

  27. Return to a land stricken in its resolve,

    its wealth, and its children—a land now dying.

  28. The poets of the Nile have not held their festival,

    nor have titles and the full moon stirred them.

  29. My mouth once strung the pearls of congratulations;

    today pearls are scattered from my eyelids.

  30. I once cried out with an unburdened heart as

    I visited the smiling garden at dusk and at dawn.

  31. But the garden of letters has become barren;

    how can I sing when there are neither blossoms nor fruit?

  32. Though I am angry, I still acknowledge

    that if you supported Egypt, Egypt would prevail.

  33. Though your present has altered what you were in the past,

    no change of heart will enter my loyal heart.

  34. I squandered my earlier days in vain, and now

    my latter days reproach me because of you.

  35. Yet I was raised among a people passionately

    devoted to you and born to obey you.

  36. They forgot your feast only because they are

    amid a calamity that has robbed them of thought.

  37. How often we rejoiced for you when you won a victory,

    yet you did not grieve for us when harm befell us.

  38. Will you reward your lovers by forsaking them?

    A fine kindness indeed—but wretched is their reward!

  39. They have no aim but what pleases you,

    while you have no desire but what they reject.

  40. O Lord, You are ours; deal gently with hearts

    that nearly break from the severity of their pain.

  41. Have mercy on breasts that anguish almost closes tight,

    as though their breaths, in their heat, were sparks.

  42. Lift Your punishment from us—we are only human;

    by Your command, after straying, we now obey.

  43. Accept our repentance; truly, for Your pardon and

    forgiveness, goodness, and favor we wait.

Sol 6.1