Buried in the ground
Heaped with stones,
Silent and at peace,
Merhawi comes home,
Back to his land-
Desert, highlands
And fields he farmed.
Is Merhawi dead?
His mother stands proud
And his bed blossoms.
>From near and far
His sisters and brothers
Come and sing
"Thanks, Merhawi, thanks,”
As they stroll down
Liberation Avenue.
“We love Merhawi!
Yeah Merhawi!”
Who said Merhawi is dead
And rots in a grave,
Or that the Red Sea salt
Eats him, and the frost
North on Rora
Burns his skin,
If we see his blood
Shimmering in our veins,
Stride with him
Instead of limping,
And see for miles
Instead of being blind?
Who said Merhawi is dead?
Can’t they hear
Merhawi, Merhawi,
In the whirlwind
Of the revolution?
We must walk with his knees,
See with his eyes
And live by his words
Or we fall like unripe fruit
Into corruption,
Selfishness and greed,
And the rot spreads
With no respect
Or care until
Oblivion cracks
Us limb by limb,
Enemies pour in
>From all directions
And the answer to
“Is Merhawi dead”
Will be “Yes. It’s true,”
Meaning our end, too,
Instead of his vision
For our future:
Working together
Like water and milk
And a perfect fit
Of hand and glove –
Eager for the test
To build our nation
Today, tomorrow
And always with him
Who will never die
Showing the way:
One glorious beam
And millions of eyes
Knowing how to shine
With no need for tears
And memorials . . .
But only if Merhawi lives!
Only if the lion slayer
Lives unrepentantly,
His name, Merhawi, Merhawi
In the whirlwind
Of the revolution!
Can you hear?
Who said Merhawi is dead?
Can they save us
Like his name,
Harvesting the fields of gold?
Who said Merhawi is dead?
translation by Charles Cantalupo and Ghirmai Negash
Received on Tue Jun 19 2012 - 13:20:34 EDT
