Palestinian Dreams
Zeinab Habash
Poetry
2005
Dedication
To All those
Who dream to Achieve
Justice,
Freedom,
Peace and happiness
To all humans
In our thorny road,
Dynamite bombs are planted,
Wheat stalks are burnt,
Only hunger,
Resists, struggles,
And is still the defender.
Whenever I recite
The poems of rebels,
I lose consciousness.
I become a bomb,
That shouts in the face
Of this cruel world.
Whenever I recite
The poems of rebels,
I become a bomb,
That changes
The roles of people
In this strange world.
I need only one letter
To finish my poem.
This appeal has been responded
By an eternal cascade,
Of innocent blood.
You've always been
My charming song,
My great extacy.
You've been more beautiful,
More precious,
And more desired,
Than eternal Paradise.
Yet,
You've become a thousand times
More beautiful,
More precious,
And more desired,
You've become so,
Just when they,
For the sake of your eyes,
Pulled off my eyes.
It's more lovely for me,
To be in jail in Haifa,
Suffering cruelness and torture,
Than living in a castle on a green hill,
Far away
From the sand of my beloved country.
Who but you,
Great Palestinian mother,
Is able to make the history,
Of this sacred land?
O my beautiful portrait!
In you,
I had a lake of dreams and great expectations.
From you,
I listened to a thousand jungles of symphonies.
With you,
I lived a long love story.
But
Since they deformed you
With bloodshed,
With hostile,
And with condemned sadism,
They not only wounded my heart,
But also
Crucified me on the same tree,
Besides Christ.
O beloved country!
I still sing charming songs,
In spite of occupation.
I still have winged dreams,
In spite of beeing in jail.
I still have bunches of joys,
In spite of melancholy.
I'm still alive,
In spite of surrounding death
And despite of all,
I still see
Peace and freedom,
In the eyes of children.
Memories and longings
Are no more
Our daily talks.
Perfume,
Coiffeur,
Passionate songs and silky clothes,
Are no more our daily talks.
The dreams of victory,
The songs of freedom,
The flags of peace,
The perfume of happiness,
And the glorious return to our country,
Have all become our daily talks.
Niruda!
Shout with me.
Shout with me.
You!
Poet of freedom.
Blood is flowing
In ancient streets.
Blood is filling
Cups of wine.
Blood is being drunk by the oppressors,
Who have achieved victory,
Against children.
The star asked the rose:
Where have you come from?
The rose answered:
From the heart of clouds.
The rose asked the star:
Where have you come from?
The star answered:
From the heart of earth.
Why do they want my head?
Why?
Because, in your head,
My lovely child,
There are precious jewels that amaze them.
Why do they want to pull off my eyes?
Because, in your eyes,
My darling
Birds have built their warm nests.
Why do they prevent me from singing?
Because foxes hate songs,
And fear the roaring of lions.
Why have I been born
Without an identity?
To carry,
My lovely child,
The sorrows of this world.
To achieve,
My lovely child,
The dreams of this world.
Death
Reaps the flowers
Of almond trees.
Yet, in Palestine,
Trees give us fruit
Before flowers.
In my country,
Delicate stars
Burn the mighty sun,
At midday.
Young birds,
Tell stories of glory,
To dangerous serpents.
Wheatstalks,
Take off their green
And yellow garments,
To participate in struggle.
In my country,
The appressed have become
The oppressor.
Daily news are pregnant.
They spit voming,
In the face of truth.
Every minute they become pregnant.
Every minute they enduce abortion.
And the drizzle of voming,
Blunts eyes
From perceiving the truth.
Our days are deceptive,
Treacherous.
Laugh at our faces.
Frown at our faces.
Carry
The changeable colours,
Of disloyalty.
(To Ahmad Dahdool)
Ahmad hasn't been well known,
Except to his intiment friends.
But,
After being martyred,
Ahmad has become a history,
Irrigated with blood.
I read what tiny fingers dig,
In the forehead of shame.
I read what tiny fingers draw,
In the eyes of daylight.
(To Mahmoud Alkurd)
The nightingale sang his
Charming song,
In the warm nest,
Then flew into the heart
Of endless sky.
Yet
In a trice,
He became a glittering star,
That spread light
Over the whole world.
The Frame of Palestinian Issue
The Sun has collapsed into the arms of dawn,
When my shivering neck
Dropped,
Under the hanging rope.
The Stars crept close to me,
And wept mutely,
On the cheeks of night.
Dear fellow!
Tear off the gown of the torturing tattoo.
Between eyelashes and eyes,
Only false lakes are there.
Fellow!
Be not so sad,
I'm not the first victim,
And I shall never be the last.
My neck became a cloud,
My eyelashes a jungle,
So, my dear fellow,
Carry not melancholy in your heart.
Fellow!
Keep chanting your lovely songs,
To help me bear my death.
For I'm not the issue,
I'm the frame of the Palestinian issue.
You'll Never Resist the Sunshine
My heart leaves me and lives with you,
My country children, boys and girls.
Who are captured in the enemy's jails
Shouting and resisting,
In the rooms of torture:
You!
Ugly wolves
You'll never frighten us
Of torture.
You'll never frighten us
Of death.
A part of the brown generous soil,
We are.
A part of the wild flowers on our proud mountains,
We are.
A rich fountain of love and songs,
We are.
So, continue your ugly affliction.
Yet,
You can never pull off sand from our country.
You can never steel fragrant from flowers.
You can never prevent charming songs of breeze.
You can never deport mountains.
You can never arrest beauty.
You can never hang fountains.
And you'll never resist the sunshine.
You'll never resist the sunshine.
Not of castles or silky clothes,
Not of gold or precious jewelry,
Not of travelling round the world,
I dream.
I only dream,
Of wandering
Inside my own garden,
Of watching young children
Play and laugh,
Of drinking coffee
In my open balcony.
I only dream,
Of watching my mother's happiness
Jump off her eyes,
Of seeing my far away
Brothers, sisters, and their children,
Running joyfully into her arms.
I only dream,
Of walking in our beautiful street,
Without being afraid
Of the soldiers' patrols,
That intend to kill those who walk.
I only dream,
Of driving my car
Into the streets of Ramallah,
Without being stopped by soldiers,
Who've announced the street
A military area.
I only dream,
Of sleeping calmly
In my night chamber,
Without being disturbed
By weaponed civil men,
Who invade houses at midnight.
I dream and dream
Of freedom and justice,
Of peace and happiness,
Not only to me and to my people,
But, also, to every human being,
On this great world.
The boughs of the Arab tree,
Multiply to a large extent.
The tempest blows them away,
But, all the boughs,
However they are separated,
Still drink,
From the same root.
Why do I love you?
Has earth been asked,
Why it loves trees?
Have songs been asked,
Why they dance on the tunes of music?
Have lovers been asked,
Why they are vigilant?
Has the sun been asked,
Why it decorates the eyes of the moon
With light?
How do I love you?
I love you,
As a brook of longing
Gathering the dust of deserts,
And making them a cascade of life's thirst.
I love you,
As the dewy dawn,
As the fragrant of jasmine.
I love you as I love you.
Why I love you?
I'm tired my darling, I'm tired.
I love you the same as a fida’i
Loves his land.
Will you ask again
Why and how I love you?
Between you and me,
Ah! My darling
Is it war?
Is it loss?
Is it a new catastrophy?
But
We might die before war dies!
And before loss and catastrophy disappear!
Between you and me,
Ah! My beloved
There are piles of occupation agony,
And military orders,
Against both of us:
A home arrest for me,
And an eternal exile for you.
I know well that age is short,
And that the path of lifeway is long.
Yet
To live that age,
And to walk that long path of lifeway,
One has to dig a dagger of love
Into his own heart!
I only need a pen and a gun.
With my pen,
Explode dynamite and atom bombs.
With my gun,
Draw happy dreams,
Decorate green fields,
Scatter laughs,
Scratch wars,
And make a law of peace and love.
With my gun,
Cancel boundaries,
And offer all human beings,
A new dinamic nationality,
That allows all of them
To go round the world,
With no identity.
I've read the history of all nations.
Yet, I've never found,
In books of history and civilization,
Any people,
Who built a minarate to their country,
Of their own flesh and blood,
The same
As we, Palestinians, did
Inside my heart,
Ellumed a stream of million candles.
But
When a tear of sadness
Had dropped from my eye,
Light collapsed,
And death slept calmly,
On the pellow of my melancholy.
Since the birth of Christ,
I dreamt of joy,
That has never come.
Since I became the martyred,
I drew my dreams,
On tears and rainbows.
Ask them
Does light vanish
From the eyes of the moon,
If they are being closed?
Ask them
Does the bird stop singing,
If his beak is being closed?
As fate and destiny cling into each other,
As the brown soil melts when kissing rain,
As the blond star disappears
When the moon laughs,
I melt into you,
I disappear in your charming eyes.
I become a vein in your great heart,
My country.
You!
The musical song of heaven,
That makes birds dance,
Trees joyful,
Children run happily
Into the fields of almond and olive trees,
That makes loving eyes,
Whisper warmly to each other.
O country!
I wish you were a beautiful nest,
That attracts every migrant nightingale,
Of your original birds.
I wish I were a red rose,
That covers the way of returners
With hope and love,
I wish I were a green wheatstalk,
A drop of water,
A grasp of soil.
I wish you were my everlasting homeland.
I dream I were a matchstick,
That kisses every proud candle,
That sings for the rebirth of a new world,
That embraces clouds,
And covers the soil with grass.
I dream I were a butterfly,
That decorates fields,
Laughs to light,
Kisses flowers day and night,
Smiles to children,
And draws history for new generations.
I dream that the globe of earth,
Were a public song.
Chanted by all humans, young and old,
During the journey of life,
At wedding parties,
At harvest seasons,
At beauty festivals and glorious feasts.
O country!
I wish you were
The heavenly message of God to earth,
To every human being,
To every life on this wide world.
Thus, darkness will drown into darkness,
The Moon will become happy,
And children will play joyfully
On the fields of almond and olive trees,
While charming eyes
Will smile widely to loving eyes.
I saw him yesterday,
Swimming in the lake of thinking,
Wading into the deep caves of sorrow,
Chasing blackbirds,
Struggling against destiny,
Disappearing in the land of insanity,
Wandering in the darkness,
And carrying in his eyes
Deep hatred to human beings.
Yet,
I saw him grasping a torch
Of hope and dreams.
I saw him conquering death
And defeating destiny.
I saw him tomorrow,
Embracing horizon,
Playing with stars,
Kissing clouds,
And shaking hands with fate.
I saw him an angel,
A bee,
A smile,
A rose,
A kiss.
I saw him a forest of wild flowers,
An oasis of joy and tenderness.
I saw him there,
Paving our way with peace and justice,
Cutting fences and destroying boundaries.
I saw him climbing up
The summit of the holy rock,
And with a charming smile,
Raising the flag,
Raising the flag,
Raising the flag.
Alone I waked,
Holding love in my heart,
Carrying sadness in my sleepy eyes,
My deep wounds bleeding.
Nails of severe coldness being digged
Into my bones.
For the mornings of Gaza are chilling.
Hunger and darkness have made of me,
A murdered,
Wearing the uniform of a murderer.
Alone I walked,
Embracing the childish dreams
Of my seven kids.
Meditating of the warmth
Of their innocence.
With nothing to own,
Except thirsty eyes for the sunrise
Of my beloved Yaffa.
Except sweet memories
That irrigated my land
With love, dreams and deep longing.
Except the smiles of birds
That before dawn,
Have escaped from their cages,
And covered the horizon,
Which has been drowned
In the lake of death.
Alone I walked
In one hand, some bread,
Olives and cactus.
In the other, love, patience
And hesitation.
I walked into chains of massacres
And bloodshed.
I walked from Deir Yassin
And Qufr Qassem.
From the hill of sculps at Tall El-Za’tar.
From Sabra and Shatella
Where death has invaded festivals.
To a new and horrible one,
Where a soldier has transformed
Into a devil,
And smashed herbs and dewy flowers.
O You Qufr Qassem!
Tell me, for the sake of God!
How does death look like in the lab of land?
How does time collapse?
How do heart beatings
Become gunfires of nothing?
How does life become a nightmare?
A horror?
Tell me Qufr Qassem
What makes my dreams small?
What makes the dreams of birds great?
What makes the bloodshed
Of my heart, at daylight, legal?
What?
If not the absence of justice
In this crazy world!
My eyes scrambled
Over the waves of an unseen ocean.
Suddenly,
My eyesight returned to me.
I saw a young brown child,
At the age of flowers,
I saw her cut the vigorous waves,
With her tiny arms.
Immediately
The ocean has changed into a forest.
The fainted moon has been carried
Into the arms of a cloud.
I almost died of thirst
Yet, in a glance
She jumped from the heart of rain
Carrying in one hand a glass of water
In the other, a stone.
(At the Med. Festival)
7.9.2000
Bisceglie
The City of dreams
The song of waves
The bird of joys
And the rose of ancient love
Bisceglie
The innocent girl
That sleeps calmly
In the arms of the Mediterranean festival
The holy saint
That prays in children's smiles
Bisceglie
The loving mother
Who gave birth
To all these kind people
Whom I loved very much
And loved their charming smiles
Into which my eyes had drowned
When I returned to Ramallah
I found you in my bags
When I looked in the mirror
I saw you on my cheeks
When I walked in the streets
You were walking by my side
And when I put my head on my pillow
I was putting it into your warm lap
Bisceglie
Who has ornamented my heart
With you?
Who has changed you into a lovely tune
That irrigates my dreams?
And who has changed your wonderful people
Into intimate friends and relatives
That fill my garden?
Bisceglie
I found in you real security,
Which I had never known
Freedom, which I was deprived from
Peace, which I still dream of
And love,
Which all Palestinians are thirsty for
I saw simplicity, which surpasses all beauty
Bisceglie
Will you allow me to dream,
That one day,
I see in my country,
All the beauty I have seen in you?!
" To Mothers of martyred children during Al Aqas Intifada"
Oct, 25th, 2000
O child !
O beloved child !
Sleep as calmly as an angel
On the waves of loving hands
With your beautiful, quiet face,
As a bunch of roses,
Paying no attention to glory
That is surrounding your small body
And holding you passionately.
Sleep calmly
As a bird
In a warm nest.
Listen, only, to the chant of God
In heaven
Here you are
You!
Myth of place and time !
Embrace dreams!
Make of wheat seeds,
Wide shores of charming music
Shine !
As an everlasting star.
As a sun,
That scatters light on endless fields.
I behold you !
A spring of iris and chrysanthemum
A generous cloud
That pours its charming scent,
At the whole world.
You!
Innocent angel !
Glittering smile!
Who says that you are away from me ?
Who says that you are away from us?
You are still living
In our hearts and eyes
With your small hand
Embracing the Palestinian colored flag
Grasping the white sacred stone
And throwing it
At the face of oppression.
The tires you’ve burnt
In the middle of the street
Are still flaming,
As an angry hell.
Spouting hatred
At those
Who dream of living, forever,
In our homeland.
And condemning those,
Who awakened you
From your noble dreams.
Upon reaching my 14th year,
I wrote the following in my daily diary:
“ I was nothing, became something,
but will be everything”
Who am I?
What am I?
Two grand questions overwhelm
The calm fire of my life
For I am, whom I am
I am this vast sky
With open arms
To embrace all the birds in flight
I am this ocean with all its treasures
And this earth
With all its magic and mystery
I am the sun, I am the moon.
I shrink,
And transform into a dew drop
Glistening on the crown of a violet bloom
I expand,
And pluck the stars with ease
I am everything I conceive
And everything I will conceive
Everything I conceive in wakefulness
Everything I conceive in sleep
Everything I conceive in reality
Everything I conceive in fantasy
I am all those whom I love
And all those
I will love
I am all the towns I visited
And all the towns I will visit
My eyes see all existence
My arms embrace the universe
My heart grows to hold the world
All these trees are mine
And all these song birds
Are singing for me
Whenever I shut the door behind me
When I leave my home
The doors
Of ultimate happiness and freedom
Are open for me
And when I return,
The door becomes happy
And the flowers in my garden,
Which I irrigate each morning
Are so jubilant
At my return.
When I enter my home
I enter my small paradise
Yes
For home is my small paradise
In it I listen to sweet music
In it I draw a Homeland
And color it to my taste
In it I create dreams and trees,
Poems and legends
In this small paradise
I feel God has created the whole universe
For me
I humbly stand,
At the threshold of the Creator
In my pure white clothes
I thank Him for innumerable blessings
And recite His words,
Which are above all other words
I feel I’m close to Him
And He’s close to me
My heart then is full
With peace and happiness,
So that if I open my eyes,
The world
All the world
Will drown in them
This is who I am
And what I am
Is it true I am all this?!!!
How wonderful!!
Translated by Issa Mitri
July 25,2001
O Pure white!
The Purity of Angels
Laughing as children
Grand as a bride’s gown
Wonderful as a poem
Fragile as the grip of a child’s hand
Conquering as judgment
Exceptional as a jasmine flower
Elegant as a lily
Graceful as a ballerina
Alert as a candle!
In you I see my most beautiful dreams
And my innocent love
I see the glimmer of happiness
In my eyes
And the mythical portraits
Of wonderful art
I see persons and forms and flowers
I see birds and gardens
As if I live in another world!
Am I dreaming?
Or am I hovering in the Seventh Sky?!
As if I stand at the Throne’s Doorsteps
And see the Light of God
And the Creator’s Greatness
I see God’s Power
And feel His Gentleness, His Wisdom and His Kindness
And see His Smile, like no other
I wish I can hold on to you
And hold you to my bosom
I wish I savor your taste
And clean my heart with your purity
I wish you permeate every cell of my soul
And create in my heart,
Love, happiness and life
I wish I sleep on your feathered pillows
And cover my body
With your white sheets
And gather the warmth
Of your downy fur
Everything subjugates to you
Everything receives you with love,
Like no other love
The Earth hugs you with her arms
The trees surrender to you
The flowers close their eyes
And slumber in your lap
The walls call upon you to ascend them
With your integrity
And the streets give you alone,
The right of way
Everything gives itself to you
Are you the eternal love?
O You, White as a lover’s steed
Let me ride your horseback
Rush me to the unknown fields
Take me to your bewitched forests
Float me in the world of poetry
Sing to me the song of innocence
And let me hear your sweet music
That refreshes the soul
O You, gentle as a butterfly
To You, I afford my life
Absorb her nectar
And make her a part of You
O You, divine blessing
Quickly sprawl on all quarters
Of our motherland
And transform into fresh water
For the people of Palestine
Are so thirsty for water
So thirsty for happiness
So thirsty for freedom
And here you have come to us
Possessing everything we need.
Translated by Issa Mitri
It is so… without any retouches
Mohammad Al-Dura
This beautiful dark child,
Transforms,
Into the entire motherland
Whenever I see you, Mohammad,
Writhing in pain
Trying to shrink your small body
So that the bullets of death do not strike you,
I cry
Whenever I see you crying
For help from your father
Who is transformed into a statue,
Of absolute failure,
I cry
Whenever I see your mother
Choking on her tears
As Virgin Mary did
As she cradled her child,
Her own flesh and blood,
I cry
Whenever I see your pearly tears
Spill from your beautiful eyes
I cry
Whenever I see your head fall
Onto your father’s chest,
I cry
Whenever I see your tiny hand
Wipes up the tears that have poured,
On your wrinkled face,
I cry
Whenever I see your body
Sprawled in the dust,
And grows and grows before my very eyes,
I cry
You have grown, Mohammad
To the size of our motherland
And your small body
Blankets the whole of Palestine
And your innocent blood
Which like a waterfall
Flooded upon the earth
Caused the drowning of our motherland
From Sea to River
From Ras Al-Naqurah to Rafah
I did not grieve for your martyrdom
But for the way you were martyred,
At high noon,
In view of every human on earth
Isn't this what happened to all of us,
In the past?!
Isn't this what is happening to all of us, every day?!
Isn't this what will happen to all of us,
In the future?!!
The whole world watches us
While we are killed in cold blood
In all the previous massacres
In all the massacres that are happening now
And in all the massacres that will happen in the future.
Your father is a powerless man
Without ability and without strength.
He even waved his paralyzed arms
Begging the killer
To stop the murder of his beloved boy!
Whenever I see you, Mohammad
I cry for me
For
You
Are
Me!
You are all my family!
And you are all Palestinians in this universe!
Whenever I see your father
I cry for all the Arabs
Who though love us very much
But are so powerless
To lift the injustice that engulfs us
Whenever I see the free people of the world
Support us
I cry and cry for all the human values
Which are erased with a tiny eraser
Called the American Veto
By Zeinab Habash- November 7, 2000
With love
We protect our souls from decay
With Work
We confirm the value
Of our existence
With Giving
We take our rewards
With Happiness
We resist the armies of boredom
With a Smile
We preserve the emotions
Of our mirrors
With Laughter
We wrestle death
With Kindness
We express our humanity
With Astonishment
We immortalize the innocence
Of our childhood
With Hope
We expel the locusts of despair
With Music
We transform into butterflies
With Freedom
We exchange the treasures
Of the world
With a Truthful word
We open hearts
With Belonging
Our souls unite
With Fulfillment
We deserve immortality
With Generosity
Our bodies sparkle
With rightness
We defeat power
With Courage
We trample cowardice
With the Future
We preserve the past
With Drawing
We color life
With Poetry
We embody the fantasy
With Persistence
We entice the impossible
Translated by Issa Mitri
31st, July.2001
Two full weeks
We’ve swung between life and death
We prayed, we invocated
We supplicated to The Living Immortal
Until you came out to us
From the Percy French hospital
Draped in the flag of Palestine
Drowned in our National Anthem
That made us all drown in a deluge of tears
You were visited by your dear friend,
Doctor Jacques Chirac,
Twice
The first time
He tried desperately to grant you the elixir of life
And the second time
You were asleep, encircled with your pleasant dreams
Dreams of liberation
Dreams of repatriation
Dreams of praying in the Holy Al Aqsa Mosque
He whispered to you
“I am your friend Doctor Chirac”
His warm words touched you deeply
And returned life to you
You opened your eyes... and smiled
Truly you deserve to smile, Our President
Because your French friend has granted you...
The State that you’ve dreamt of
The flag of four colors
And the National Anthem
He has also, granted us, Palestinians,
This great Love
That gave wind to our wings
And lightened our hearts of the heavy load
Of this hard event
It is true that tears burst from our eyes
But we felt that the honor,
Which was bestowed on you
Has extended to engulf us all
And the pride you had felt
Filled each and every Heart
Of your Palestinian People
Who are scattered all over the whole universe
And that Palestine which we dream of liberating
Has been liberated by you
And your first dream of Martyrdom
Has been realized
The airplane that circled the air
And landed with a quiver
On Al Kinana Land
Has encircled our souls
And landed them with you at the airport
Thus, you have realized your second Martyrdom
And advanced the monarchs and presidents
On the gun carriage
Led by true Arabian horses
We felt that greatness and dignity fill our hearts
No one
Who came before you... nor would come after you
Is as fortunate, or will be as fortunate,
Of the honor you were bestowed
Did you feel as we did
The magnificence of this surprise?
Did your heart dance with joy?
At hearing the National Anthem
Played by the musicians
In our beloved Egypt?
Did you notice the red carpet?
Which is only laid out
For great people and presidents?
All these friends
Came to you from around the globe
Not to say goodbye to your mortal remains
But to grasp a bundle of light
From your defensive spirit
That insisted on extracting freedom and dignity
For your land and your people
Everyone who witnessed you, wished
That his funeral be conducted with such reverence
With such greatness
With such esteem
Then you descended upon us
Like the Bird of Thunder
For the third Martyrdom you have wished
“Martyr… Martyr… Martyr”
With your first Martyrdom
You united us
With your second Martyrdom
You united the whole world with us and for us
And with your third Martyrdom
You awaked in us the responsibility
To achieve all of your dreams
In the first you were embraced by France
In the second you were embraced by Egypt
In the third, you were embraced
By your precious and loving Palestine
A testimony of the love and esteem
Of your great people
The people who stood by you
As you stood with them
In the most difficult days of hardship
Excuse us Abu Ammar
For the feelings of our people for you
Were overwhelming
And greater than the need
To give you a more formal funeral
It was a spontaneous funeral
Governed by pure emotions
Pouring from pure hearts
The youths tried to carry you to Al Quds
Tried to return life to you
They replaced the flag with the Kofiyeh
Even the policemen
Who were supposed to maintain order,
Joined them
Releasing from deep within them, the call…
“With our souls, with our blood,
We will redeem you Abu Ammar”
“With our souls, with our blood,
We will redeem you Palestine”
And they rushed with you,
Beyond our amazement
Here you lay embraced by your soil
From the Holy Al Quds
So sleep with delighted eyes
For we shall awake you soon from your slumber
To walk together to Al Quds
And to pray together
In the Holy Al Aqsa Mosque
That awaits you,
O Living Martyr
Are not your immortal words
“To Al Quds we go…Martyrs in millions”?
Yes Abu Ammar
You are returning to Al Quds a Martyr
Blazing the trail for all martyrs ahead of you
And those who will follow
I do not say farewell, Abu Ammar
Bu I say, so long, until we meet again
Oh, You!
The miracle of this age and all ages.
Translated by Issa Mitri
14th, November.2004
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حقوق الطبع لجميع صفحات هذا الموقع محفوظة لزينب حبش وشركة الحلول المتكاملة 2005 |
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