1. A brown-skinned maiden wanders along the riverbank
Like a flower bud on the lip of the stream cooling itself

2. Poems come to her in flocks, thirsty,
In their hearts the sparks of the sun blaze

3. She approaches the cliff to quench her thirst
The rhymes are strange, and rhythm has carried her away

4. The Euphrates murmurs in its lushness
Angry when oppressed, it seethes and rages

5. Is the roar rushing water in its channels
Or tears throughout history gathering

6. Or jinn falling into its depths where
The flowers of stars on the waves tremble

7. This Iraq, its wounds are painful
In every house its liver is torn

8. Its patience the patience of Job, inflicted on him
Are worms on his blood, by day and night they gnaw

9. The bloodshed is pure, and the accusations kill it
Drop by drop on the prayer niche they are drained

10. What is the purpose of creation, does it cast its pains
On the pillows or cast them into the pit

11. For Iraq we have a grandfather we will carry
As embers, so no palm or arm complains

12. It is the wish, and if deaths are sweetened by it
The souls' scent, patient as they were known

13. The heart does not weary even of its troubles
Nor the crushing pain, it is fire and hail

14. It is the beloved, and if its playgrounds change
It is close to us, far from it will never stray

15. How beautiful is the world on the lip
Of a child, for whom this loving heart sings

16. It is Iraq, its pains are places of rest
It is the intimate, the milk-sibling, and the son

17. Like birds, its ruins cannot console us
This Iraq, nor can separation make us doubt

18. From the ribs a song of the house standing tall
We are its siblings, its roof and pillar

19. We do not accept its humiliation, or fail to be
Like poles, but it rises, and we give support

20. We are its replacement when its night grows dark
Bound by the creed of love, we are brought together

21. If lightning provoked it from its lurking places
And it foamed in tumult, chains would be broken