Sawt al-Mara — page 26

Burst Forth, My Soul..

Burst forth, my soul..

Blow, O winds of winter...

Storm over the withered fields..

Tear up, O tempests, the roots of the trees..

Pour down, O torrents of the forest..

And sweep away before you

all life...!

Burst forth, my soul..

I can bear you no longer..

Rage..

And mingle your wailing

with the roar of raging nature..

Be shattered..!

Shatter me..

Shatter every memory..

And every trace..

Speak to me, O spirits of the dead..

Amid the desolation of night and the roar of the storm..

Speak to me..

For I am neither terrified nor afraid..

Have mercy, O Lord..

The air carries no voice to me..

Nor does the storm return me any answer..

Night has shrouded me in its darkness..

And I am alone in the flood of sorrows..

My voice has faded and gone..

As the breaths of evening pass away among the grasses of the rocks..

The time of my withering has drawn near..

And the storm that will strip my leaves is about to blow..

And tomorrow the far-off traveler will come..

Searching for me in the fields..

Seeking me in the plains..

And he will find no news of me..

Nor any trace...!

And yet..

When night lets down its curtains..

And the wind blows gently over the grass..

My spirit will go forth with the darkness..

Moaning as the imprisoned air moans in the forest..

And sobbing as the meadow sobs upon the distant shore..

Fariha Hakim

Crisco

To the lady of every house...!

My trials were many... and the result was

Crisco

The finest of vegetable shortenings

Try it in your home for preparing dishes and sweets, and satisfy yourself of its quality

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Free of animal fat and grease

Ask for the successful Crisco, in the light-blue metal tin

Crisco 1 lb. for cakes, pastry, frying