Banu, Our Lady,
this is my gift to you. Accept it.
This said, he raised his offering
and threw it down the stairs.
On the ground, the sacrificial victim
twisted with pain.
A stream of blood followed his fall.
Silence followed his screams.
A demon had made an offering,
and a person had ceased to exist.
Oh . . . for the child lost so young!
A hundred times Oh . . . for the old mother.
Banu, Our Lady, I dreamt I saw you
in the halo of the moon,
your face pale, your eyes red with sorrow.
In your arms you held two sons,
one perfect like the full moon,
the other radiant like the sun.
You sat beside the corpse,
with the road-dust still on your face,
your soul scalded by sorrow,
your heart tired of arrows.
You complained: O Justice! O Faith!
O, the shamelessness of the brute –
offering me a corpse
and asking me to accept it!
Banu, Our Lady, you shed a deluge of tears
over the man murdered by such ignorance.
You turned your silken coat to a shroud
to cover his body.
O, Banu, our guide! O, Banu, our savior,
O, Banu, unblemished! O, Banu, full of light!