يا دار قلبي دايم الدوم بطريك — Mufti Fathallah

O home, my heart remembers you forever and always.

And when I sleep, I see you in dreams, O home.

O home, I never thought we would leave you as long as we lived.

But God's decree is harsh upon creation.

O home, we went scattered through the realms.

Will you not lament us in wailing and verse?

How great my sorrow if someone else tends you,

While we are in Ottoman captivity, amid the seas.

And I remember the sight of your maidens,

Whose gleaming cheeks are like moons.

How lovely the companions' gathering in your upper rooms,

And coffee gleams, and cups go round.

O home, among the tribes I was your host,

And I am not like one who patiently endures war.

The notables and men of intrigue toyed with you,

Until you became a byword of shame among people.

O home, the hard-pressed used to make straight for you,

And you were a place of visitation, ever and always frequented.

How many princes and beys, how many sought refuge in you,

From Ibn Saud's land to the lands of Sinjar.

Sattam ibn Sha'lan came to us and sought refuge in you,

When he arrived, fleeing the confines of prison.

Before him, Faisal, Ibn Dukhi, and those others,

And the people of the north, skilled on horseback.

Never did the Ottoman blast frighten your people,

Nor did you ever dwell in anxious thoughts and cares.

Your chiefs grew many; then your Lord began requiting you.

He set over you the Turks, arrogant in their counsels.

We forsook you, even if clover grows within your grounds,

Since the day the bey became chief, bearer of the trailing sword.

Al-Abaza, Ibn Sawwan, and al-Dik became chiefs,

And the chief of al-Qurayya, Ghannaj's son, became headman.

Young men became chiefs, and the crafty seized control.

Men of worth have neither king nor butcher.

Those are men of arguments, eloquent in pledges,

She began taking vengeance on us for Ammar.

By God, but for discord, I do not think he would have ruled you—

Nay, by my Lord's truth, Creator of all beings, the All-Subduing—

Even had they mustered the army from Aleppo to Karak yonder,

And brought army contingents with battalions and soldiers.

Yet God suffices me against whoever wrought corruption in you.

Their banners, in my eyes, are of kerosene and soot.

After this, O rider of the mount that suits you,

A swift, freebred she-camel, her pace that of a bird in flight.

Throw her saddle and the saddle-pads upon her,

And tighten her girth, her rear cinch, and the binding-strap.

Aqili saddlebags, splendid with braided work,

An ardent woman's handiwork for her beloved, with feathers and buttons.

After that, my messenger, I wish to instruct you:

Take provisions that need not be set over a fire.

When you rouse her after camping and resting,

The keen-eyed can barely follow her with their gaze.

Set out from me to seek those dear to you.

From Izmir your road winds, O generous youth.

From there to Konya—may God guide you.

Your road is to the right; leave Marash on the left.

Toward Diyar Bakr and Mardin along your course,

To Aleppo the Grey, after a month and a day.

Homs and Hama; then head for Damascus before nightfall.

And make for those who honor a guest when he visits.

Past the meeting-places of al-Faraj and al-Mahalik,

You will reach folk who brew coffee and spice.

The least of them is first to greet you with an invitation.

Noble-bearded men, steadfast even when their dust rises.

Bring me news and tidings of those battles.

I wonder what happened and came to pass in our absence.

May mercy be upon whoever was present at the battle there.

May he dwell in Eden, with gardens and fruit within it.

Men of worth are like the pack-camels of battle.

O Lord, do not let them be broken by every rash counsellor.

O God, free our lands by the honor of Your Prophet,

The Chosen One, from every oppressor and tyrant.