Mohammad Ahmad
06-22-2017, 08:52 AM
Yesterday it has been erected
They blew it up
Therefore, civilization should end
Eid would come and no dress up
Undressed you shall be
O, Hadbaah
The worshiping place to all
A pious man and saint
O, the minaret of a generous glory
I cry you
I bid you a farewell
As a noble champion
And you had in each year a memory.
Ears got down
Trodden by horses' hooves
Reminiscence and aches
And ever departure
Hours before sundown and after
You loftily call to prayer
And Tigris River would smile
Cisterns, basins and ships
And the pastures of horses
Accordantly would return
And worriedly lie down
Safe guard each another
Proudly established a coalition
The danger would threaten
And morning is still in bed asleep
Moses shepherds
His stick turned short
It will never blow wells up
She turned bewildered
Wrapped oneself by a thick overcoat
And summer days become hotter
At midday it can't be withstood
Who are the comers?
Who are the emigrants?
Who look up the Arcturus?
Which generous man can attend?
Which glimpse of hope can get up?
Kettles would pour out
Sheep would be milked
And sleepers still in bed dreaming
No messengers should then
And no shelter to find
Hell it would replace making happiness
It looks like a pig bends on its breasts
Shouting, "where are Arabs?"
Where are those who ignored the sanctity of history?
As al-quds as Nablus
At each day dogs howl
And come around
Clock's hands turn upset
Stars would go wandering
Butterflies in their beds are slept
Never fly
The minaret of Hadbaah was cut off
As a tree branch it was chopped off
It becomes as a lifeless tree
It will not produce fruits
It will not highly stand
O, Iraq, may I cry you
Is not a consolatory to come here?
They blew it up
Therefore, civilization should end
Eid would come and no dress up
Undressed you shall be
O, Hadbaah
The worshiping place to all
A pious man and saint
O, the minaret of a generous glory
I cry you
I bid you a farewell
As a noble champion
And you had in each year a memory.
Ears got down
Trodden by horses' hooves
Reminiscence and aches
And ever departure
Hours before sundown and after
You loftily call to prayer
And Tigris River would smile
Cisterns, basins and ships
And the pastures of horses
Accordantly would return
And worriedly lie down
Safe guard each another
Proudly established a coalition
The danger would threaten
And morning is still in bed asleep
Moses shepherds
His stick turned short
It will never blow wells up
She turned bewildered
Wrapped oneself by a thick overcoat
And summer days become hotter
At midday it can't be withstood
Who are the comers?
Who are the emigrants?
Who look up the Arcturus?
Which generous man can attend?
Which glimpse of hope can get up?
Kettles would pour out
Sheep would be milked
And sleepers still in bed dreaming
No messengers should then
And no shelter to find
Hell it would replace making happiness
It looks like a pig bends on its breasts
Shouting, "where are Arabs?"
Where are those who ignored the sanctity of history?
As al-quds as Nablus
At each day dogs howl
And come around
Clock's hands turn upset
Stars would go wandering
Butterflies in their beds are slept
Never fly
The minaret of Hadbaah was cut off
As a tree branch it was chopped off
It becomes as a lifeless tree
It will not produce fruits
It will not highly stand
O, Iraq, may I cry you
Is not a consolatory to come here?