Hello, on your worries, the blue water is swaying, asking for religion and showing your religion. On your worries, the Kaaba is a place we visit, even if it is foolishness with an eye. On your worries, we knew the first death and shame, and an eye that was bent from its eye. The night of fear came, a scorching winter wind, even if the net of the cake was shaken at night. And the laughter came to my cell, the laughter scattered with the hooves of horses. On your smell, the beaches are swayed with joy, and the grinding of two words. A word with which the water withered all its prosperity. A word with which the eye blurred all its joy. And the cheeks of companionship turned green. Weeping, weeping, death, who reaps the people, weeping, weeping, weeping, the voice of who wakes up against an oppressor, weeping, weeping. My people and our hearts are a state, and our conversations are braided, and our thorns are the dazzle and our love, and our bread is stingy, and our danger is the dust of the island, and a country is a country of abundance. Who erases the landmarks, a country? Country and country, country of death, who drinks the human being, country, country And my people became precious to the eyelids of thoughts And your specter is not your specter It returned to my eyes, tender And I drank my soul for you, the bitterness of loneliness And I found the soul in the ranks, faithful And that is from that Who struck the dear star without a sky And covered it with an eye And that is from that Who puts a dog on a bucket And washes with the last of the bleeding The face of the city And between him and him, what is the fatigue of spinning the flirts, between him and him, what is the loss of the voice of the cheers, between him And loneliness passed on my eyelids, beads of a rosary And the fatigue of a pale lipstick And a story And a Bedouin laughter Dies at the edges of regret And darkness passed, deceiving the white gaze And the emergency, what fell, the peak of luck, to stop, and my eye plays with the breeze And scattered the lie as grass And between my heart wants to grow bigger than its name, from itself And hates and doubts and loves And I called you the conscience And I still carry you A will without limits that cannot be written May the health of the two rivers be blessed How numb and distracting are their stagnant waters, sweet are my people and their path towards it I miss the talk of the mail and the Nile’s house The Nile’s house is like a target whose people do not care Whenever the wound heals intentionally, they block it The Nile’s house And you desired me to write to you About the death of the papyrus and the longing of the water and the tears of the ears of wheat And about the eyes that gather the night with a tear and burn candles and torches during death And about the hearts that die without a name and without a flag And about the sun that appeared by its name and made difficult the first case and my estrangement and the voice of the mourners waving me and gathering at the beginning of the voice In it is the scent of my eyes and in it my people The longing of the evening is my people, oh you who lost me And the cough of the soul does not do anything to soften the source of sadness and the opposite of the years of the night to close the window sills Two red suns that turn the clay green She and she is the eye Who finishes the conversations She and she is the one Who dries up and reconciles She and she is the one And a night that embraced us with exhaustion With the fear of the clan houses, and the first house was a laugh, and the third house was a tremor, and the seventh house was an eye, and the smoke of the confirmed ones was a word of Marwa and a glance, and a sigh of Jenin, and our formulation was their eyes, a pot of jugs and milk of longing, and a word cut off like the length of the years, and an eye, an eye, pulled the next of the twairf, an eye, an eye, an eye, eagerly, singing about the stories, an eye, an eye, an eye, a temptation with its sadness, and decorated the face of the wound, and an eye that shook us and choked us, abundantly, and the salt was abundant, and an eye that asked us, who came, I did not stumble upon you, my people, and we said goodbye to the braids, consciences, daggers, and the warm covering of the dryness, and the commotion was mute, sacrificing the lip and wandering the whole, whoever grows up, her dog grows a herb, and her things reach the next of the cliffs, my people, and your love opened me to the door of the strange step, and your eyes gave me the choice of humiliation even if it killed, and I and death joined together in your water, a leg, and the partridge of the soul is staring, and life is a pool of bitterness, and death remained with every glance A bullet burns in my heart, and with every flame I scream with my blood, the world is on fire. Whoever thirsts for its light, blood will be destroyed by every trick. My family will be destroyed. In my last letters, I