O, you the oppressor, the unjust, lo!

The darkness lover, the life-foe!

You’ve belittled the pains of a weak people,

And your palm is suffused with their gory hue.

You’ve walked trampling on Existence’s charm,

And on its tops, sowed thorns of sorrow.

Slow down! Don’t be deceived by the spring,

By the bright welkin and by the morn’s lights—

In the horizons wide are the horrors of darkness,

The thunderbolts, and the wind bites.

Be wary! Under ashes lie embers;

And who sows thorns reaps injuries.

Brood! There, how ye harvested

Mortals’ heads and hope’s flowerings;

Watered dust with blood flowings,

Forced it to sip tears till drunken.

Will topple ye over the flood, the blood-flood,

And will devour ye the fiery showering.

• The Tunisian poet Abul-Qasim Al-Shaby