Armies marching from one side of our vastness to the other,

Slaughtering, raping their way in relish;

Women mourning defeat over city walls,

Jumping to oblivion;

Slaves pleading their heavens in vain,

Mad kings beheading their mothers…

We’ve seen it all,

Done it all,

Built it all –   

Tzars, Emperors, Rajas,

Mystics, Prophets,  Traffickers,

Harems, Bordellos, Cathedrals,

Gulags, Holy Shrines, Apartment Blocks…

Blood ran our rivers,

Infused our deserts,

Urine stank our breath,

Gunpowder our nostrils.

We mumbled holy words,

Prayers to extol morality,

Denounce mortality.

Maybe you think you are better than us,

But facts are stronger than thoughts.

This story is ours –  we invented it

Own it, cherish it,

And it comes back to our sequel  –  you – with vengeance,

Up here in Syria, Yemen, Libya, Iraq – our current playing fields. 

For some reason, you are always there too…

The pioneers we sent your shores then,

Those who started your saga,

Avowedly disowned us,

Pretended Virgin Birth,

Spontaneous Generation,

Happy Orphan-hood.

Well, enjoy your wishful thinking in the Abu Ghraibs of the world,

Afghani hospitals,

Vietnamese jungles,

City favelas…

Meanwhile, we are still here,

Numerous and combative as ever,

Old World people.

Like we’ve always been.