Stand up, the eagle has lost all its strides,
and the house of Sada, If you ask her questions
I do not know ruins from a clear belly,
for the length of your pardon, but her uncle
If I say forget Layla’s house on the nuclei,
Imagine, in my deepest mind, like
And I had hoped that he had joined her before she was deserted,
He had deserted me, And its connection
So there was nothing left but a lump inflaming the womb.
Except for the lies of sperm, and its delusions
There is no covenant except to mention it again,
And he arrived only to visit her phantom.
I wished for Layla too late, but
I wished for a plan, I did not get it
Zaha secret from Raba to the Caliph of Jafar,
and her beauty returned to her, and her beauty
cleared her air when he came to her, and revealed
its mist from her, And she gave way to her north
and its lords had become dusty and dark
sides of its diagonals, And it showed its imbalance
If you miss a land, and slandered others,
her sun has gone out, and its crescent
Your prospects are fertile,
Will you replace the world, and you are her clothes
And what blindness did God move towards us,
We had her appeal, and greet her
From Thy face to us with its glad tidings,
And from Thy hand, we shall obtain it.
to you all over the city of Mecca, so tomorrow
to make their backs to you, and its mountains
and you, the sons of al-Abbas, uncle mohammed,
the oath of Quraish, If they left you alone,
And I was pleased that the caliphate is among you
camped, What if she is afraid to move her?
to you her inheritance, and the right of it, it wasn’t
other than you but its name and its plagiarism
And the children of Harb and Marwan became
house of humiliation, they have seen them
lower their gaze, outraging their conscience,
And they make clear allusions
And it is he who guides his enmity towards you
to stumble into a stumble, what they say
when they bend their necks towards sedition
may the past be moderate with swords
And without the ones from me their souls
Their intentions in the worlds we reject them
educator Samar Dan’s breasts
Indian whites, freshly polished
Stop Al-Eis, she has lost her footsteps – the poet Al-Buhtari
