Sunday, February 12, 2012

El Rass - The Volcano of Beirut

El Rass - The Volcano of Beirut
بركان بيروت - السيّد الرأس
Lebanon
Released in December 2011 (from the upcoming album "Kachf el Mahjoub")
Lyrics courtesy of Rayya El Zain, Nizar Ghanem, & Shadia Mansour in Shahadat's Winter 2012 issue (16 professionally translated Arabic rap songs with English and Arabic side-by-side. Check it out!



Full Arabic lyrics with their English translation after the jump...


مبارح شفت بلمنام بيروت عمتغرق تحت رماد بركان
فحموا الناس بس ال"سكاي بار" كان بعده ولعان
بيروت ثبتت حبة الثورة اللي فينا نبتت
لما أحبطت نفوسنا من الجمود
فينا بيروت تحركت
عدمّ دمارنا وعدم حرية خيارنا
بيوت بيروت تعمّرت
سكرنا عجفاف دموعنا جفوننا عليها تسكرت فتخمرت
إذا بطلت تطير قدرك علأرض مقهور
إذا وقفت تكسير بتصير جزء من الديكور
بحاور بناور بالآخر بواجه التاج
بتوضى بصلي بتوصلني أصوات أنّات المحتاج
تأمل العلم بعرّي العمل من العمل
خياري عنار خفيفة دوب المسمار وتستوي الأفكار النظيفة
عمّروا دمروا زمروا تذمروا
ربك صبره دربه جربه
عقلن خربوا غربوا هربوا
وقبلوا بالفن عحيط الشارع
عشرط ما يكون في شك بشارع
هيدي مش عاصمة ثقافة هيدي حلبة المصارع
بيروت لا تعرف في الماضي ولا تعرب بالمضارع
تحول التركيبة خلى العقل الجامد فكّر حاله مالك المدينة
رقبته طويلة متل مالك الحزين وايده لوزيري
اعتبر نفسه أول مين اكتشف هلجزيرة
بأجر الفقير شقق بأسعار مدروسة
بشكل تضل طموحاته ممعوسة
نهبوا الأرض من ربعي وصارت الحرب شركة استثمار بمفعول رجعي
تحت شعار إعادة الإعمار
لو ما كان خلص دوره وانتهى عقد الايجار
كان الحريري ما طار وما صار مطار الحريري
عاصمة لبنان بتوازن بين ضريحين
واتنيناتن عاغتيالن في علامة استفهام
واحد قدّس الموت بس لسبب
واحد قدّس الحياة بس بالكذب
واحد بايدو تحّول الدهب سمّ
وواحد تخبّى من الدهب بالدم
مين الشهيد؟
اللي مات تحت صبابيط ثورة عبيد شهيد؟
اللي مات فتحول على حملة اعلانات هدفها ترفع الطايفة معدلات التجنيد؟
قنابل بالبريد وصل
سيوف علوريد حصل
الموت للبليد صنم
الصبر للعنيد حلم
تأليه الشهيد ظلم
خليط الحديد والدم، العلاج والسم،
الرفاه والهم، النوعية والكم
الدعارة وورقة التوت
بمدينة بيروت علم

Yesterday I dreamt Beirut was drowning under volcanic ash
The people were turned to charcoal but Sky Bar [a posh Beirut club] was still lit up.
Beirut suppressed the seed of the revolution, the one that sprouted
When our spirits were foiled from immobility
In us Beirut moved.
On the blood of our destruction, and  the negation of our freedom of choice
The houses of Beirut are rebuilt
We got drunk on the dryness of our tears, our eyelids closed on them and fermented
If you stop flying your destiny on land is distress
If you stop breaking, you  become part of the decoration
I discuss, I maneuver, ultimately I confront the crown
I perform ablutions, I pray, I receive the moaning of the needy
The meditation of knowledge strips work from hope
My choice is on low fire, melting the nails, and clean thoughts are ripening. 
They built, they destroyed, they honked, they complained
Your god made him patient, tested him and trained him
Their minds: ruined, westernized, chased off
They accepted art pissed on back alleys
As long as there is no doubt in the streets
This is no capital of  culture, it’s a wrestling ring
Beirut can’t speak of itself in the past nor conjugate itself in the present.
Transitions and transformations made the closed mind think he owns the city
His neck is long like a stork, his fingers long like a politician’s
He thinks himself the first who discovered this peninsula
He lets the poor rent apartments at prices studied
To crush ambitions
They stole the land from my cousins
And the war became a backward-looking investment
Under the slogan of reconstruction
If his time wasn’t up and his contract finished
Hariri didn’t have to fly and it wouldn’t have become the Hariri airport
Lebanon’s capital keeps balance between two shrines
And on both assassinations, there is a question mark
One sanctifies death but for a reason
And one sanctifies life with lies
In one’s hand gold turned into poison
And the other hid from gold with blood
Who is the martyr?
The one who died under the shoes of the oppressed’s uprising is a martyr?
The one whose death was transformed into an ad campaign for sectarian enlistment?
Bombs came in the mail,
Swords to the jugular: true stories
Death to the cold is statuette
Patience to the stubborn is a dream
Divinity to the martyr is oppression
The mixture of steel and blood, the cure and poison
Luxury and distress, quality and quantity
Prostitution and modesty:
The science of the city of Beirut

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