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ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ A verse of poetry that amazed me with its magnificence It has been placed on my heart since the pen wrote it It has become my slogan and motivated me to honor it Twenty verses like it have wisdom Do not complain to people about a wound that you are its owner The wound only hurts the one who has the pain Your complaint to people, O son of people, is a shortcoming And who among people is awake without illness And worry is like a torrent And diseases are abundant Red signs no matter how much their people conceal If you complain to the one for whom time is good Your eyes will boil And the one you complain to is an idol And if you complain to the one your complaint pleases You have added a wound to your wound Its name is regret Has consolation ever liberated a homeland Or is condolences an alternative If the flag falls He who mourns fate extinguishes the eye of his ambition There is no eye for fate if ambitions do not see How disappointed I was with the one to whom I gave my trust And you forced me to His abandonment is accusations How much I have become a bridge for those I loved, so he walked on my ribs, and a foot slipped on it, and trampled on my heart, and the heart was its home, so my loyalty is not to a friend who has no values Neither despair is my garment, nor diseases break me My wound is stubborn, and heals with the sting of fire Drink your tears and sip its bitterness Honey invades the candles A fire while she smiles And gather your worries And saddle her back like a horse And rise like a sword when the blades join The justice of the earth has been fake since it was created And justice on earth is neither justice nor conscience So goodness is a gentle, kind, anxious lamb And evil is a malicious, cunning, and greedy wolf All the knives are running towards the sheep To reassure the wolf that the family is reunited Be cunning and be a thief without a hand You see the pleasures crowding under your hands Money and fame are two golden statues for which you pray In all their languages, nations and the powerful are tyrants and pharaohs, and most people are servants under their thrones. Your complaint is my complaint, you who are burning with pain. No tears have flowed on your cheeks. Blood has flowed. Who but God do we take refuge under His lotus tree, seek His help and hold fast to Him? Be a philosopher, and you will see that everyone here is fighting over nothingness, and they are nothingness. ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ #Karim_AlIraqi