On the Pharaohs' Route from Alexandria to Abu Simbel
Deep in the sands, beneath the fiery sky, Egypt watches over its gods,
O eternal Nile, your sacred waters whisper the voices of pious pharaohs,
The pyramids, guardians of time, stand proudly, defying the winds,
Their heavy stones, full of mystery, hide secrets that the desert protects.
Where the waves dance on the harbor, Alexandria, you were the city of poets and sages,
Your Lighthouse, the seventh wonder of the world on the Pharos point, once guided sailors,
Your Library, temple of knowledge, housed words on clever scrolls,
Alexandria, pearl of the Mediterranean, your name is forever engraved in our hearts.
Saqqara, in the kingdom of Djoser
Before Giza, before Khufu, before Luxor and its magnificent temples,
There was Saqqara, the ancient capital of virtuoso Egypt,
Where man sought to ascend to heaven through stone,
A sacred place surrounded by mastabas and mysteries.
But at the heart of this city of the dead stands a miracle of antiquity,
The Pyramid of Djoser, ruler of the Third Dynasty, erected around 2700 BC,
Sixty meters high, composed of six tiers like superimposed steps,
It is the very first pyramid in human history, made of composite stone.
And this genius, this dream in stone, was conceived by a man with a sacred destiny,
Imhotep, architect, priest, physician, and sage, beloved and deified,
Son of Thoth in wisdom, he conceived of eternity not as an austere tomb,
But as an ascent where death became a passage, not a mystery.
Six steps to reach Ra, six breaths to leave the enclosure of the ancestors,
You made the tomb a staircase to the sun where kings are reborn beneath their shrouds,
Imhotep, may your name be revered, you were not a pharaoh,
But the centuries were silent before your wisdom as a great baron.
In the middle of the Pyramids
On the Giza plateau, enigmatic, the Sphinx with its piercing gaze remains silent.
Beneath its stone mask, witness to the passing centuries, it ponders.
Facing the pyramids rising proudly and silently, in homage to sacred ancestors,
Each block, each step, is a precious offering to hidden souls.
From Cairo to Karnak
Cairo awakens to the muezzin's call in a constant flurry of activity.
Tahrir Square, still bearing the memory of 2011 and the "Papyrus Revolution," is a benevolent one.
Beneath its minarets, time seems to stand still, in remembrance of the truthful Rosetta Stone.
In its magnificent museum, Tutankhamun shines beneath his mask of gold and grace.
At Kom el-Hettan, on the road to Thebes, a pause before the two Colossi of Memnon,
remains of the gigantic temple of Amenhotep III, of the 18th Dynasty, the Pharaoh.
The king, his hands resting on his knees, sits upon the throne of his ancestors,
venerating the "Sema-Tawy," two Niles entwining papyrus and lotus, symbols of the two lands.
In Thebes, city of the god Amun, the temples of Karnak and Luxor rise towards the heavens,
Amun, Isis, Horus, Osiris, offer their blessings upon the fertile land of their ancestors,
The hieroglyphs, with each engraved sign, tell of battles, of wounded loves,
O Egypt, land of lost dreams, may your empire remain in immensity.
The temples of Karnak, sentinels of stone, still whisper forgotten secrets,
The sacred avenues where the pharaohs walked still echo with whispered prayers,
The obelisks point towards the infinite sky, like fingers outstretched towards eternity,
Karnak, sanctuary of the ages, your profound mystery recalls your past grandeur.
Under the blessing of the god Thoth, a visit to the Ramesseum of Thebes,
Under the burning sky of Kemet, for the 49th year of life, the Arié...Joy in the Carib,
Before the gigantic hands of Ramses II, silence became an outpouring,
The scribe-pilgrim, between the temple columns, let his heart beat before History.
It is at Biban-el-Moulouk, meaning in Arabic "the Two Gates of the Kings,
that we will depart on the west bank of the Nile, in this Valley of the Kings,
home to 63 tombs of the Pharaohs from 1500 to 1000 BC, during the New Kingdom,
including that of Thutmose III, the first to bear the name of Pharaoh, at the bottom of the Descent.
Between the cliff of Deir el-Bahari, the Temple of Hatshepsut, the deified female Pharaoh,
My mind considers the future, for the soul of a king thinks of eternity,
The God, to strengthen His power on earth, created me," Maatkare,
"First of all the goddesses of justice and the life force of Ra.
Embarking on the sacred waters of the Nile
Embarkation at Luxor, in the heart of Upper Egypt, where the boats slumber,
Like steel scarabs along the cornice of the sacred Nile's waters, lined up wisely,
It gently laps against their sides, faithful accomplice to departures with a taste of eternity,
The sky is tinged with gold, carried by the river's murmur on the gangplank, the passengers board.
The Nile, this liquid god, unfurls its azure ribbon in the heart of the desert,
Where each wave sings of the gods and each bank watches over souls like a rosary,
Each year it offers its black silt, Hapy, pot-bellied and smiling, joyfully guides its current,
While Khnum, with the ram's head, molds the clay of life for the villagers.
From Edfu to Aswan
A hundred leagues from Thebes, Edfu awakens to the hooves of panting horses,
Carriages glide between the quarters, towards the sacred temple sealed by the sand,
The giant pylon rises, engraved with Pharaoh conquering subjugated beings,
Club raised, he strikes, the enemies before Horus engraved, witness to blessed times.
Falcon with a stormy eye, avenging god, Horus stands guard, bearing two colors,
The double crown, red and white, unites Upper and Lower Egypt under his warrior's law,
A corridor erected between pillars and walls isolates the sacred place from familiar eyes,
The Gallery of Victory recounts the battles against Seth, on the hieroglyphic walls.
In the heart of the temple, a treasure, the Barque of Horus, a masterpiece of devotion,
Its wooden hull recalls the papyrus stalks that the priests carried in procession,
Long poles guide the vessel; it glides, like a dream, between the living and the mortal,
A symbol of travel, of renewal, of heaven, it carries the god, the immortal falcon.
O Kom Ombo, guardian of the Nile, you raise your columns toward the horizon,
Your word is divided, two gods dwell within you, united without fading away,
On one side roars Sobek, lord of the marshes, with fangs polished by silt,
He watches over the floods, irrigates the furrows, he reigns here as a nurturing god.
On the other hovers Haroëris, eye of light, one sees the day, the other watches over the night,
Solar falcon, messenger of the sky, he illuminates doubt and pierces majesty,
Kom Ombo you are the temple of opposites, fire in water, the pacified edge,
Your walls, engraved with offerings, tell of balance to the stifled people.
Egypt knew that all life is a balance between the water that gives and the water that engulfs.
Kom Ombo is not just a temple, carved in stone; it is a message of life.
Each room, each wall, each double staircase reveals this duality:
The fang of Sobek and the eye of Horus, chaos contained, light revealed.
In the jewel of Aswan, the river, with its golden reflections, cradles the hotel of the Orientals.
At the Old Cataract, Thomas Cook laid his colonial dreams.
The Aga Khan rests on the heights where a rose awaits him, placed there each day.
The faithful Begum, with unwavering love, fulfilled his well-deserved promise.
Agatha Christie's pen, in Death on the Nile, flowed forth in its grim panorama,
While on Elephantine Island, golden obelisks were erected by the syenite,
There flows a nilometer, on its worn steps,
Measuring fortune by the flood of the sacred harvests.
Kitchener, the lord with flowery inclinations, brought forth an island with floral accents,
From Sudan to Asia, his botanical passion filled it with flowers and branches,
In the heart of a Nubian village bursting with color, life, and warmth,
The Nile caresses the banks of a timeless world, in its clamor.
The walls, painted in turquoise, ochre, and saffron, tell tales of troubadour legends.
In the hollow of an open house, a man shows us young crocodiles.
In their stone basin, living sculptures, they rest, almost motionless,
While children, laughing heartily, offer their dolls woven with tenderness.
Philae, the Island of the Gods
When the waters of Aswan, freed from their banks, submerged the pearl of the Nile,
Philae drowned, but never died; her soul was saved, her temple rebuilt,
UNESCO transported it, stone by stone, to the island of Agikia,
Isis, beneath her golden diadem, still haloed, watches over Philae.
And as evening returns, Philae, illuminated in a phenomenal Sound and Light show, comes alive again,
Based on a text by André Castelot, narrated by Suzanne Flon and Jean Topart.
In this fascinating place unfolds the life of Osiris, a just king, betrayed by the impious Seth.
But Isis the sorceress loves him, seeks him, and brings him back to life—a true art.
O Philae, island where the Nile becomes silk,
Isis, draped in stars, unfurls her veils there,
In her sanctuary built of rose and light,
In the mirror of eternal return, she cradles the resurrected Osiris, proud.
The columns still sing the sacred litanies,
Where water, wind, and granite spell out her innate magic,
The goddess shed tears of gold and azure there,
While the ships of Egypt stood still, speechless before the immensity.
Today, under your talented brush, Lilou my friend,
The temple of Philae is reborn in washes of watercolor and nostalgia,
Each pigment is an offering to the horizon,
As if Isis herself had guided your hand, with passion.
Your wash is an offering, more precious than incense,
A fragment of eternity laid upon fragile paper,
Philae, in your shimmering colors, remains trembling,
As if the goddess had breathed beneath your agile hand.
The Romance of Abu Simbe
At the threshold of Nubia, under the gaze of the gods, Ramses unleashed his madness from the rock.
Four colossi stand guard, but it is for one woman that his heart beats eternally,
Nefertari, "she for whom the sun rises, great royal wife, her grace enhanced,
Ramses said to the wind, "In stone, I engrave this vow, my love is eternal.
Neither sand, nor water, nor passing centuries will erase this queen with her blazing heart.
When the Nile threatens, modern man unites to save this monument.
Abu Simbel was moved, stone by stone, so that love might survive the wrath of the waters.
And in the Egyptian night, beneath a velvet sky, their love, without halo, is reborn each evening.
A few cubits away, carved into the golden stone, stands a small temple,
The one that Love had built for a woman he beholds,
He had sculpted for her, not far from his palace, a temple dedicated to Hathor,
A sanctuary erected for her whose beauty makes the dawn pale.
Guy says l’Arié…..Joie