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"The Dance"
by Siamanto (Atom Yarjanian).
(Translated by Peter Balakian and Nevart Yaghlian)

In a field of cinders where Armenian life
was still dying,
a German woman, trying not to cry
told me the horror she witnessed:

"This thing I'm telling you about,
I saw with my own eyes,
Behind my window of hell
I clenched my teeth
and watched the town of Bardez turn
into a heap of ashes.
The corpses were piled high as trees,
and from the springs, from the streams and the road,
the blood was a stubborn murmur,
and still calls revenge in my ear.

Don't be afraid; I must tell you what I saw.
so people will understand
the crimes men do to men.
For two days, by the road to the graveyard …

Let the hearts of the world understand,
It was Sunday morning,
the first useless Sunday dawning on the corpses.
From dawn to dusk I had been in my room
with a stabbed woman —
my tears wetting her death —
when I heard from afar
a dark crowd standing in a vineyard
lashing twenty brides
and singing filthy songs.

Leaving the half-dead girl on the straw mattress,
I went to the balcony of my window
and the crowd seemed to thicken like a clump of trees
An animal of a man shouted, "You must dance,
dance when our drum beats."
With fury whips cracked
on the flesh of these women.
Hand in hand the brides began their circle dance.
Now, I envied my wounded neighbor
because with a calm snore she cursed
the universe and gave up her soul to the stars …

"Dance," they raved,
"dance till you die, infidel beauties
With your flapping tits, dance!
Smile for us.  You're abandoned now,
you're naked slaves,
so dance like a bunch of fuckin' sluts.
We're hot for your dead bodies."
Twenty graceful brides collapsed.
"Get up," the crowed screamed,
brandishing their swords.

Then someone brought a jug of kerosene.
Human justice, I spit in your face.
The brides were anointed.
"Dance," they thundered —
"here's a fragrance you can't get in Arabia."

With a torch, they set
the naked brides on fire.
And the charred bodies rolled
and tumbled to their deaths …

I slammed my shutters,
sat down next to my dead girl
and asked: "How can I dig out my eyes?"

"El Baile"
Por Siamanto (Atom Yarjanian).
Traduccion de Nicolas Alvarado

En un campo de cenizas donde la vida armenia
seguia muriendo,
una alemana, tratando de no llorar,
me narro el horror que atestiguo:

“Esto que te cuento
lo vi con mis propios ojos.
Tras mi ventana infernal
aprete los dientes
y vi el pueblo de Bardez ser reducido
a un monton de cenizas.
Los cadaveres se alzaban en pilas tan altas como un arbol
y, de los manantiales, de las corrientes y de los caminos,
la sangre emitia un terco murmullo
que aun clama venganza en mis oidos.

No temas; debo contarte lo que vi
para que la gente conozca
los crimenes que el hombre inflige al hombre.
Durante dos dias, junto al camino al cementerio.

Que los corazones del mundo comprendan!
Era una manana de domingo,
del primer domingo inutil que amanecia sobre los cadaveres.
Del crepusculo al ocaso habia estado en mi habitacion
con una mujer apunalada
-su muerte humedecida por mis lagrimas-
cuando escuche a lo lejos,
parada en un vinedo, a una turba oscura
que azotaba a veinte virgenes
y entonaba cantos inmundos.

Deje a la chica medio muerta en el colchon de paja
y sali al balcon de mi ventana.
La turba parecia crecer como una mata.
Un animal humano grito “ Debeis Danzar,
danzar al son de nuestro tambor!”
Con furia chasquearon los latigos
sobre las carnes de estas mujeres.
Tomadas de la mano, las virgenes comenzaron su
danza circular. Envidiaba ahora a mi vecina herida
quien, con un calmo ronquido,
maldecia al universo y entregaba su alma a las estrellas...

“¡Bailen!, clamaban
“¡Bailen hata la muerte, bellezas infieles!
¡Bailen con vuestras tetas batientes!
¡¡Sonreidnos!!  ¡Estais perdidas!
¡Sois esclavas desnudas!
¡Bailen, pues, como un racimo de miserables putas!
¡Vuestros cuerpos muertos nos ponen calientes!”
Veinte agraciadas virgenes se desplomaron.
“¡Levantaos!”, gritaba la turba
blandiendo sus espadas.

Alguien trajo entonces un jarro de keroseno.
Justicia humana, escupo tu faz.
Los virgenes fueron ungidas.
“¡Bailen!, rugieron:
“¡He aqui una fragancia que no se encuentra en Arabia!”

Con una antorcha
prendieron fuego a los cuerpos desnudos
y los cuerpos calcinados rodaron
hasta alcanzar la muerte...

Cerre mi ventana,
me sente junto a mi muerta
y pregunte: “¿Como puedo arrancarme los ojos?

"The Desert" Verses 1 - 20 
THE DIARY OF BEIRUT UNDER SEIGE, 1982
by Adonis (Ali Ahmad Said)
English translation by Abdullah al-Udhari

1. My era tells me bluntly:
   You do not belong.
   I answer bluntly:
   I do not belong,
   I try to understand you.
   Now I am a shadow
   Lost in the forest
   Of a skull

2. I'm on my feet, the wall is a fence —
        The distance shrinks, a window recedes.
   Daylight is a thread
   Snipped by my lungs to stitch the evening.

3. All I said about my life and death
   Recurs in the silence
   Of the stone under my head …

4. Am I full of contradictions?  That is correct.
        Now I am a plant.  Yesterday, when I was between fire
             and water
        I was a harvest.
        Now I am a rose and live coal,
        Now I am the sun and the shadow
        I am not a god.
   Am I full of contradictions?  That is correct …

5. The moon always wears
   A stone helmet
   To fight its own shadows.

6. The door of my house is closed.
        Darkness is a blanket:
             A pale moon comes with
             A handful of light
             My words fall
             To convey my gratitude.

7. The killing has changed the city's shape — This rock
        is bone
        This smoke people breathing.

8. We no longer meet,
   Rejection and exile keep us apart.
   The promises are dead, space is dead,
   Death alone has become our meeting point.

9. He shuts the door
   Not to trap his joy
   … But to free his grief.

10. A newscast
         About a woman in love
         Being killed,
         About a boy being kidnapped
         And a policeman growing into a wall.

11. Whatever comes it will be old
         So take with you anything other than this madness — get ready
              To stay a stranger …

12. They found people in sacks:
         One without a head
         One without a tongue or hands
         One squashed
         The rest without names.
    Have you gone mad?  Please.
         Do not write about these things.

13. You will see
         Say his name
         Say I painted his face
         Stretch your hand to him
         Or walk like any man
         Or smile
         Or say I was once sad
    You will see
         There is no homeland …

14. There may come a time when you'll be
         Accepted to live deaf and dumb, and perhaps
    They'll let you mumble: death,
                   Life, resurrection —
         And peace be upon you.

15. He wears Jihad uniform, struts in a mantle of ideas.
    A merchant — he does not sell clothes, he sells people.

16. They took him to a ditch and burnt him.
         He was not a murderer, he was a boy.
         He was not …
                     He was a voice
    Vibrating, scaling the steps of space.
    And now he's fluting in the air.

17. Darkness.
    The earth's trees have become tears on heaven's cheeks.
    An eclipse in this place.
    Death snapped the city's branch and the friends departed.

18. You do not die because you are created or because you have a body
         You die because you are the face of the future.

19. The flower that tempted the wind to carry its perfume
                                                                                       Died yesterday.

20. The sun no longer rises
    It covers its feet with straw
    And slips away …

Sevda Zinçiri
Anonymous

Kin (Hatred)
The text of HATRED was published by the large circulation Turkish
newspapaer Hurriyet on 18 July 1974, just 48 hours before the
Turkish invasion of Cyprus by order of the Bulent Ecevit
government.