The Supreme Triumph

On a cloudy, rainy day all grand she-birds and he-birds

Stayed on Toubkal peak, worn-out

By the past days of running and fighting to survive,

Longing now to see their offspring's flights:

Some should be the spitting image of them,

Some to pass them,

Some to save them.

With ease a few fly near them,

But many are destined simply to stare.



With eyes bright like gold,

My she-bird and he-bird were gazing

At my slow and brave movements

To shake off the nails around

My back and my wings.



A faint smile struck on their lips.

A faint song was out of their mouths.

Shine! Shine! Shine!

Tick! Tick! Tick!



Following my steps, two brothers of mine

Fly early in their first days,

But their direction was to heaven.

My she-bird, dismayed and frightened,

Still hope to see the rest on the right line.



Sweating and hoping daily

To grab sour grapes,

But still all is far away.

Perhaps I’m a square peg in this life!

Perhaps, though in my thirties,

I ‘m still in my salad days.



I looked beyond Toubkal peak

I perceived gardens waterd by running streams,

White men wedded to chaste spouses,

All around incense-bearing trees,

And fertile large lands.



My kins’flights cross my mind.

Nailed to the earth, I turn my eyes

Towards Toubkal peak, strangely

Its glimmer is so faint.



Shine! Shine! Shine.

Tick! Tick! Tick.

The Naiad airs from the running streams,

And the sound of merry-making on the banks,

Bring me to declare that

The hereafter is the balm and that

The supreme triumph is no longer

On Atlas Mountains but where

The meeting is sure and forever.