Shaqni in Iraq is a lightning bolt – the poet Al-Buhtari

staunch lightning in Iraq,
An intruder longing called me to Syria
And I see my concern is costing me a mother
for things, They are light and heavy
Whenever you say I have relieved my stirrups,
You took me away from the rights curiosity
And if I were content with my portion,
to suffice me from a lot of a little
What a vizier! then you have the tidal
to, And you still hope and get
You are in us the rest of the religion and the world
hey, And the shade of rain fell upon us
what we got in installments, so we roughed it
stumble, what the resigned says
For my life you have defended the blessings of strength
When did you stop and almost disappear?
forbidding the glory of what they delivered,
Only the glorious repels the glorious
God counts us in perpetuating what has been
we have you, And he is the best agent
far away from me, two
long, without what you asked, long
I am tired of standing, even he yelled
It’s like success to me leaving
when you throw a victory from my intercessor,
So my intercessor for my support is busy
between a cup and a burrow, it’s either
a neophyte, or ill
friday lapse, And a month will die
count his days, and squint that transforms
I’m leaving and smelling about you with doubt
rr, what do you see, And what do I say?