It is often said that true inspiring poetry transcends time and place, and outlives its creator, and this can be truly said about the epic works of the late Libyan poet Mohamed Shaltami. His defiant poetry of resistance, confronting oppression and calling for freedom was ever inspiring to many generations of Libyans throughout the years. In his poem (The Accusation) possibly written in political prison in the early 1970’s, Shaltami defies time and describes in vividness the fate of the dictator, and oppressor. It is a testament that despite all the dictators weapons of mass oppression, the people will rise […]
Shaltami
A Card
By: Mohamed Shaltami* Say what you like. And write with the font of the crown what misery has carved in us, And say, we are traitors, cowards With hearts full of men’s dead endeavors I fled, And left my shoes behind me, And left behind the bridge the voice of the killed east Say what you like, I am an infiltrator, A traitor, barefoot, dragging behind him a new disgrace Say what you want But I will not die, ever So you can mount my corpse to victory No, I will not die… ________ * Mohamed Shaltami (1945- 2010) Benghazi-Libya: A renowned Libyan […]
امتداد الصوت: رسالة إلى الاطفال (محمد الشلطامي)
(رسالة إلى الاطفال) للشاعر محمد الشلطامي.. إلى كل من يعشقون الحرية
Leaflet
By: Mohamed Shaltami* My friends… Before the shadows of the mirage Foliates as a magic oasis in each door in my heart And the love for truth sealed its locks before me Don’t pass by And steadfast It is he that breathes life into the graves Turning darkness into light And chants to millions of paupers To revolt And his letters destroyed the cave and tyrants of the age. My friends… A thousand years might pass upon us Without a field, a house or spring We might be unable In the ages of death and humiliation for all to step […]
Shaltami in English
By: Mohamed Shaltami* Writings on cell door 6 My comrades… Will these stones grow grass in dawn? Will the wishes bloom on the walls of death, and the seeds? Will the songs resound through the echo? And will the memories scent the stove? Herein since a month since a year since a century, a wall stood up and a prison and a doomed generation. Will the sad spring sun, rise to wake our demised dreams? Will the nightingales and larks recite tales of the city which God once committed suicide on its door thus, painting all the houses and bushes […]