Ode To Şehzade Mustafa

A tribute to the great Şehzade Mustafa, a once beloved Turkish prince.

A dreadful shade of death loom'd,
O'er the o'erlapp'd clouds of Konya,
Foreshadowing a bold soul doom'd,
That raught weary hearts of Amasya.

Throngs of the Janissaries mourn'd, 
The loss of the Şehzade of Manissa, 
Who was the Sultan's son spurn'd, 
And left were the tears of Rumeysa.

The swiftest sword of the Ottomans,
Had yield'd to the brazen banesmen,
As a wariness arous'd in the Persians,
Within the gloom of Bursa's children. 

Thus the winds of Allah wield'd then,
From the lands of Europe onto Asia,
Whilst the gaggle glid'd o'er the fen,
Until the gales had wanz'd in Persia.

An orlay befell upon his eyes blive, 
But a blindness of a father's greed, 
Brought a dastardly ending to rive,
The sons of Suleiman and his seed.

Behold ye the hold men of Turkey,
Who strode onto the hills of Austria,
Strive whence the fields are murky,
And ride upon horses onto Vienna.

Hery a douth of the Şehzade now, 
When his name is shout'd aloud, 
As his birr bustleth above a brow, 
Among the willing and the proud. 

Reaper of Manissa,
Lord of Anatolia,
Keeper of Amasya, 
Sword of Eurasia.

Maybe my name won’t be written into the golden pages of history, and nobody will speak of my victories, nor will I have a throne to preside over. Furthermore, people will write that I was a Şehzade who was a traitor. So be it. Let them write things that way. Let them hide the truth that Allah knows. One day will come where the stories of the oppressed will also be told… Maybe in a few years, or maybe in a hundreds of years, someone will tell my story. Someone will hear me and will learn the truth. And on that day justice will return to the oppressed.

Şehzade Mustafa.....