Europe, awake! You have no cause for shame!
Today is not the day for disavowals
and slanders of Le Pens, Fortuyns or Powells.
The Khalif robbed the Spaniard of his name
and left the Greek, the Slav, the Magyar lame
the day he rumbled, twisting, through your bowels.
Now, once again, in bulging packs, he prowls
in search of loot, prestige and blond-haired game.
He crams the heart of Amsterdam and clogs
the veins of Lyon, Düsseldorf and Rome.
You do not owe this prowler anything,
so shine your light and pierce those moral fogs
that blind you till you cannot find your home.
Awake, proud Europe! Rise and stretch and sing!
Awake from this blood-curdling nightmare, Europe!
The sky is bursting open in new light,
the Gallic cockerel crows the end of night,
the Austrian finches have started to chirrup,
the Norseman’s jumping up onto his stirrup,
the Pole’s preparing for a steel-armed fight,
the Russian rockets to a newfound height,
the Belgian waffles about more than syrup.
The Blackfoot, Navaho and Cherokee
must also greet a crisp and wholesome dawn,
must rule as masters of their native soil.
So, reel your cousins back across the sea
to where their pulsing, flexing souls were born.
Come home now, Whitey! Rinse your minds of oil.
Half a world away, the Boer limps
across his broken empire’s dusty shards,
along his corrugated boulevards
where blue-eyed children scavenge like wild chimps.
The Zulu flashes him a bitter glimpse
and clasps a knife that swiftly empties yards.
But Brussels looks away and disregards.
Brussels. Bureaucratic moral shrimps.
Stained with ethnomasochistic felony,
they’ll never hear the Indo-Aryan call.
Europe, awake! Rebuild your broken memory!
Those suicidal tyrants will soon fall,
so hang the traitors higher than the enemy
and seize your birthright back, once and for all!
