Едно почти неизвестно, но много актуално днес стихотворение на дамгосания от неолиберастията велик поет Киплинг (не се немам да го преведа - не съм забравената вече ablepsia, светла й памет):
THE BURDEN OF JERUSALEM
But Abram said unto Sarai, “Behold
thy maid is in thy hand. Do to
her as it pleaseth thee.” And
when Sarai dealt hardly with her
she fled from her face.
Genesis XVI.6.
In ancient days
and deserts wild
There rose a feud –
still unsubdued –
’Twixt Sarah’s son
and Hagar’s child
That centred round Jerusalem.
(While underneath
the timeless bough
Of Mamre’s oak,
mid stranger-folk
The Patriarch slumbered
and his spouse
Nor dreamed about Jerusalem).
For Ashmael lived
where he was born,
And pastured there
in tents of hair
Among the Camel
and the Thorn –
Beersheba, south Jerusalem.
But Israel sought
employ and food
At Pharoah’s knees,
till Rameses
Dismissed his plaguey multitude,
with curses,
Toward Jerusalem.
Across the wilderness
they came,
And launched their horde
o’er Jordan’s ford,
And blazed the road
by sack and flame
To Jebusite Jerusalem.
Then Kings and Judges
ruled the land,
And did not well by Israel,
Till Babylonia took a hand,
And drove them from Jerusalem.
And Cyrus sent them back anew,
To carry on as they had done,
Till angry Titus overthrew
The fabric of Jerusalem.
Then they were scattered
north and west,
While each Crusade
more certain made
That Hagar’s vengeful
son possessed
Mohamedan Jerusalem.
Where Ishmael held
his desert state,
And framed a creed
to serve his need. –
“Allah-hu-Akbar!
God is Great!”
He preached it in Jerusalem.
And every realm
they wandered through
Rose, far or near,
in hate or fear,
And robbed and tortured,
chased and slew,
The outcasts of Jerusalem.
So ran their doom –
half seer, half slave –
And ages passed,
and at the last
They stood beside
each tyrant’s grave,
And whispered of Jerusalem.
We do not know
what God attends
The Unloved Race
in every place
Where they amass
their dividends
From Riga to Jerusalem;
But all the course
of Time makes clear
To everyone
(except the Hun)
It does not pay to interfere
With Cohen from Jerusalem.
For, ‘neath the Rabbi’s
curls and fur
(Or scents and rings
of movie-Kings)
The aloof,
unleavened blood of Ur,
Broods steadfast on Jerusalem.
Where Ishmael bides
in his own place –
A robber bold,
as was foretold,
To stand before
his brother’s face –
The wolf without Jerusalem:
And burthened Gentiles
o’er the main
Must bear the weight
of Israel’s hate
Because he is not
brought again
In triumph to Jerusalem.
Yet he who bred the
unending strife
And was not brave
enough to save
The Bondsmaid from
the furious wife,
He wrought thy woe, Jerusalem!
