O sea, in the grip of sorrows, rain upon us

From the cloud of happiness, it waters our love

This life, in which we live in our alienation

No friend, no land where we have not found a homeland

Where shall we go if history has expelled us

From our land, but into a void that weaves our shroud

We practice poetry and sorrows in verse

As the heart burns and dreams flow in our blood

No one lived free who told time his cries

Nor a wise, just leader who was aware

O my homeland, O letters of love we weave

Despite the wounds, we tell love from our mouths

The verses of poetry cannot extinguish the yearning if

My heart longs to meet family and homeland

✍🏻Hamoud Aqshan Al-Bakali