I long for Jerusalem
Jaffa and Hebron.
And pale eyes with tears flow
And seas of thorns
Stand between my ailing homeland and me
All kinds of snakes nested in his guts,
And washing dirt
Traveling from the stomachs of Jackals.
Crying tears walking on my eyeballs
For years, have been flying on passports.
Tormented between groans of the past
And among the mazes of the present, I am a prisoner.
Reem gets closer to me, with its small fingers
She wipes tears with her innocent smile
She calls me in mother's tenderness
Do not cry, Father, victory is within my bones
Flowing like a rivulet
I see green flags
On the outskirts of Jerusalem flying
Waiting for the knights of Ahmed
Carried by the ‘Ababil’ birds
And branches covered with ash and rocket
Uprooted by the hands of jackals with pickaxes
And their tanks still flatten butterflies
Then dump their bodies into sewers
But were unable to eradicate
Wills that follow Saladin’s footsteps
Don’t cry, Father
I smell the breeze of Nitraria
Predicting the departure of ‘Banu Qurayza’ and ‘Nadir’
My greetings, Father,
To the incarcerated Aqsa Mosque
Oujda 1/5/2014