ENOUGH FOR ME

Enough for me to die on her earth

be buried in her

to melt and vanish into her soil

then sprout forth as a flower

played with by a child from my country.

Enough for me to remain

in my country’s embrace

to be in her close as a handful of dust

a sprig of grass

a flower.

--- Fadwa Tuqan

IF I MUST DIE

If I must die, 

you must live 

to tell my story 

to sell my things 

to buy a piece of cloth 

and some strings, 

(make it white with a long tail) 

so that a child, somewhere in Gaza 

while looking heaven in the eye 

awaiting his dad who left in a blaze— 

and bid no one farewell 

not even to his flesh 

not even to himself— 

sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above 

and thinks for a moment an angel is there 

bringing back love 

If I must die 

let it bring hope 

let it be a tale.

--- Refaat Alareer

Krvava Bajka (A Bloody Fairytale)

Bilo je to u zemlji seljaka,

Na brdovitom Balkanu dalekome,

Mučeničkom smrću, tihog jeka,

Četa đaka umrla jednoga.

Iste godine svi su rođeni,

Školski dani im isti teku,

Na svečanosti svi vođeni,

Od istih bolesti pelcovani.

Pedeset i pet minuta pre,

Smrtnog časa, tih i malić,

Sedeli su u đačkoj klupi,

Rešavali zadatke složeni.

Koliko može putnik pješice,

Misli pune brojeva svima,

Sveske pune dvojki, petica,

I snova što stiskaju dno džepa.

Misli su pune istih tajni,

Rodoljubivih, ljubavnih sneva,

Svrha, nada i života san,

Mislili su da dugo će trčati.

Ceo red dečaka za ruke se drži,

Sa poslednjeg časa polako kreću,

Na streljanje mirno kao senke,

Smrt im ništa nije značila.

Drugovi jednog časa svi,

Uzneseni u večno boravište,

Tihim putem bez straha,

Njihova priča večno traje.

English Translation (by Sarah O’Keeffe)

It was a land of peasants' toil,

Amid the Balkans' hills and soil,

A troop of schoolchildren brave and small,

Died as martyrs, one and all.

Born the same year, with days aligned,

Their school hours closely intertwined,

Together marched to festivals bright,

Vaccinated, shared each plight.

Fifty-five minutes before fate's hand,

At desks they sat, a quiet band,

Solving tasks with youthful zest:

“How far can one walk on foot, the test...”

Their minds were full of numbers clear,

Notebooks held grades, some severe—

Countless A’s, and F's as well,

Dreams and secrets none could tell.

Patriotic hopes, loves held tight,

Hidden deep within pockets’ light,

They thought their race would long extend,

Beneath the blue sky without end.

Hand in hand, the boys did go,

From last school bell to death’s shadow,

Calmly, as if death were naught,

To eternal rest their souls were brought.

In one day, their lives did cease,

Yet in our hearts, their memories increase,

A tale of youth and courage true,

In a land where mountains view.

--- Desanka Maksimović 

# About the Poem This powerful and heartbreaking poem by Desanka Maksimović commemorates the tragic massacre of schoolchildren and civilians perpetrated by Nazi forces in Kragujevac, Serbia, during World War II (October 1941).