The Dancer’s Haik

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The Dancer’s Haik

* * *

The mornings are nice in Lasta, because she lets out her breath here.

* * *

Tekle Hajman, the young man, is no longer so young. There is wisdom in his eyes, and my nation is prospering in Lasta. She does not love me. Ten moons have passed, and she does not love me. The seal of Jasus Moa is stronger than I thought.

* * *

Do something, Tekle Hajman, my love!

* * *

It is time to go on the road. The horse beneath me and the horizon before me. Jekuno Amlak summons me. It is time to do something.

* * *

I knew that Tekle would accomplish everything. In just the way I had thought. In just the way that is right. Lasta is growing and His Word has greater power. Now is the time to strike. Once and for all. It is time for Jekuno Amlak, the Prince of Amhara, to go after what is his.
Once and for all.

* * *

This land smells of her. Even after so many months. I know my way. I am spurring this horse so as to hear her voice more clearly, to meet her in the thud of hooves.

* * *

Jasus Moa decided to leave. My people are brave, father, and they will take what is rightfully ours.

* * *

– You are no longer so young, Tekle.
– Time is a healer of pain, Teacher, but the body cannot resist.
– I understood that you have increased your force, Tekle, and that you know what should be done.
– I will try to convince him, Teacher.
– You really still love her, Tekle?
My eyes are blind without her.
His silence is his pain. And time just amplifies it.

* * *

– You will be part of my nation, Tekle Hajman, if we manage to achieve Truth.
– By all means, Prince of Amhara. By all means.

* * *

Dreams of blood visit me, and things do not brighten in the morning. I wake up in pain, and I lie down in pain. Does he sense my tears?

* * *

Powerful rains have chased me for days, but the way keeps growing shorter, so I am rushing toward her.

* * *

– I gathered that you were in Debre, Tekle?
– I was, My Lord.
– What did you bring from there, Tekle?
– A word from the Great Jasus.
– I don’t want to hear it.
– Your wish is my command, My Lord.

* * *

He is here. He came. It is better now. Now the dreams do not frighten me. I know whose blood will flow.

* * *

– We will be greater in number after this, because the Truth is with us! Be strong, my warriors, and the whole kingdom will be ours! His Word will go before us, even to the place where the unbeliever rules!
Fire and sword, and our raised banners. Now nothing will hinder us. My army is great, made up of strong men, mounted on strong horses, armed with swords and spears. No obstacle will stand in its way, because the Truth is with us!

* * *

The ground rumbles from his force. It is time to strike. Once and for all.

* * *

They are coming. I hear them. Let them be received calmly to be destroyed to the last man. This kingdom is mine, for the ages. There are no hordes. They were not going to appear. Someone has deceived me. The liar will be punished, but first let them be received calmly and firmly. To the last man.

* * *

She loves me. That is my truth, that is my justification. She loves me.

* * *

Lallibela sends only one rider against this army?

* * *

– Glory to you for all time, Prince of Amhara!
– Who are you?
– A faithful pupil of the Great Tekle, and your obedient servant, My Lord!
– Where is the army of Lallibela?
– It is your army, as if it is the one behind you. Lallibela is no more.
We have established the Truth so easily?

* * *

I will need centuries to find repentance for my evil, but she is by my side and the road is wide. I took only one haik for her, but it is as if I had given her the kingdom the way she looks at me.

* * *

My heart sings by your side, Tekle Hajman, my love. This evening, in this haik, I will be yours, and every night and day thereafter, as long as there is a sun in the sky and air in my breast.

* * *

Along a great river I will raise a tent and those who know not of my evildoing will come to hear His Word. With these hands I will clothe them, weaving for everyone until I have redeemed myself for my love.

Skopje, 1997 – April 28, 1999

From “Sandglass”, Magor 2002

Translated by Richard Gaughran

2018-08-21T17:23:00+00:00 December 29th, 2008|Categories: Prose, Literature, Blesok no. 63|0 Comments