from the heart of the desert
blessed by the sun of the Horn
he stood there weaving
the cloth of freedom for the newborn
chanting the words to rise up the flag
tempting with a dreaming eyes
the future not to lag
freedom , pride ,justice , Islam ,love of the land
words encrypted in his poems ,
flowing to the heart and the mind
words i borrow like a moon garnishing itself
with a sun's light to ignite
the days went by
and the newborn walked
the wrong way and by
the prejudice and hate
Somalia was hawked
our hero's poems kept chanting
pointing towards the injustice
and the corruption
reminding us of the struggle
and the blood of martyrs
He said it loud and clear :
Dugsi ma leh qabyaaladi
waxay dumiso mooyaane
but my people are too hypnotized
in their blindness
too deaf to hear the words of wisdom
they are in love with madness
so Timacado stay in your grave
wrap yourself with
the moments of glory you had witnessed
i will leave you now coz i dont have any memories
and i cant bare the taste of sorrow
your words left me with !!
the tears cant find their way out
and the thoughts are whispering :
Timacado sometimes it is good
to be among the dead
because outside this cemetery,
there is no life in the Horn
as it is used to be!!!
as if your words were fortune tellers
and not just describing the history
Soomaloo iscunaysa oo
Saqda qaylo dhawaaqdiyo
Sulub laysu cabbaystio
Hadba soof la xabbaadhiyo
Ismail A. Ali
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