Ibn Rushd Fund for Freedom of Thought

My Beloved People - Hosni Mubarak's speech to the Egyptian people - poem by Ahmad Fuad Najm

My beloved people, my soul, my babies
Like a ring around my finger, you are
My good people, you who give me fulfillment
Living in the graveyards[1] patiently and content
You, who eat poison and sell your clothes just to get by

You, who bear burdens and carry mountains,
My people, doomed and asleep
Swimming in poverty, and your situation is quite a situation

I like you to be stoned, strung-out and careless
Dizzy, and high as hell
I like you to be empty headed, and doped up
Not handling the matters of your own life at all

I like those that plunder, I like those that lie
I like those that pillage and rob heaps
I like those that see, know, and fear
And swallow their tongues and never say a word
I like the imbeciles that keep their eyes shut
I like the animals and the mules
I like those that are satisfied, I like those that are idle
I like those that just want to raise the kids
I like the desperate; I like the depressed
I like the frustrated that see the impossible
I like you to travel, to emigrate far
And send back money in dollars and Riyals
I like you to clap, party and cheer
For a football match, a movie, or a tabloid
I like you to support, revere, idolize
To accept, to be hypocritical, and to lick my shoes clean
To prepare the smelling salts, and to assemble the cadres
To wash, to scrub, and to assemble meetings

But, if you want to think, plan, or decide
If you start using your mind and to open up debates
If you start to create problems
And to search for things and to ask questions
And you want to enlighten and you want to improve
As though you were the man of the hour

In that case, I will find you, never let you go
And I will make you an example for all to see
And your torment will be beyond belief
I will shame and name you
And destroy your dignity
You will get framed for crimes
And live for the rest of your life in exile

If you agree, I’ll like
If you don’t I’ll lash you
Rise or fall you’ll end up with Gamal[2]
Rise or fall you’ll end up with Gamal


[1] This is not a metaphor, because of the housing crisis many of the urban poor set up large communities in the graveyards.
[2] Gamal Mubarak, the president’s son, believed to be groomed for presidency.

Friday, July 1, 2011

English Translation
Walaa Quisay
http://revolutionaryarabicpoetry.blogspot.de/2011/07/my-beloved-people.html