Dreamers of Cairo

My Feline Fiends

On every street, these vagabonds, despicable cats,

Stashed in dark corners of detritus,

Bequeathing their appetite for beggary,

Lo! In the land of Pharaohs opposite happens,

Amassing enough praises and cuddles for their age,

Whether it is their first or the ninth life, here each gets prized,

Like capital in this world of wage.

Neither rest by sundown, nor any relief at the dawn,

Just a walk, down a dimly lit road of Gezira,

I hallucinate at every screech, every dirt by the road,

At every torn pieces of cloth dangling from trees,

While they lounge in their regal dwellings,

Hastily made of dregs with domiciles of drains.

I wonder should they dissent to live this way,

A mere strike against the stale bread and milk,

The world may witness another uprising at Tahrir Square.

Bastet reigns in each of them still, though silently,

But profusely still earns reverence here,

Unlike India, where they endure boot-lash,

Of every passer-by, detestations of every woman,

Piteous with starvation; condemned to perish,

But here, hardly oppressed, they raise their heads,

And humankind rues at their every cry.

Buried with kings and legends of mummies,

Kitties still rule this part of the world, unlike curs,

Chewing upon the very bones of their masters,

If ever they were alerted about the deprivation,

If ever they were kidnapped for their condescension,

May someone disembark, my feline fiends

May someone tug the insentient tails!