لا تسأليني، أتعَبتْني الأسئلَهْ
هَرِمَ الجَوابُ كأنَّ ثغْرًا أهْملَهْ
Do not ask me, questions have wearied me
The answer has grown old as if it were a neglected ruin
الصمْتُ غيظٌ، والكلامُ مَشيئَتيْ
إنْ شِئْتِ طاولْتُ الرَّدَى كيْ أسألَهْ
Silence is rage, and speech is my will
If you wish, I resisted devastation in order to ask it
كمْ راحلٍ حَمَلَ الفُراتُ رُفاتَهُ
حتّى استَوى في كلِّ بيْتٍ أرملَهْ!
How many caravans has the Euphrates carried their relics
Until it settled in every desolate house!
شَقَّتْ ثيابَ القَهْرِ، لا حُزنًا
على صمتِ المنازلِ، بلْ ضياعِ المنزلَهْ
It tore the clothes of oppression, not out of sorrow
Over the silence of houses, but the loss of home
لمـّا مَشى مُتَخفِّفًا مِنْ ذُلِّنا
نَسْرُ العِراقِ، وذُلُّنا قدْ أثقلَهْ
When he walked away lightly from our humiliation
The goshawk of Iraq, while our humiliation burdened it
رَجَفتْ أيادي الغَدْرِ لمـّا طوَّقتْ
عُنُقًا تَبسَّمَ في فَضاءِ المِقْصلَهْ
The hands of betrayal trembled when they surrounded
A neck that smiled in the open space of the scaffold
ومَضى يُرتِّبُ للبلادِ نَهارَها
لكنَّ موتًا في الظَّلامِ تَعجَّلَهْ
And he went on organizing the day for the country
But death in the darkness hurried him
يا سائليْ... نصرٌ أضلَّ طريقَنا
تاهَت بَنادقُنا ونَحنُ البوْصَلَهْ
O my questioner... A victory that lost our way
Our guns wandered while we are the onions
دَمُنا الحَرامُ تَحلَّلتْهُ سُيوفُنا
أمْ أنَّ سيفَ الخائفينَ تحلَّلَهْ؟!
Was our forbidden blood dissolved by our swords
Or did the sword of the fearful dissolve it?!
بغدادُ تسْكُنها الحياةَ بعُسْرةٍ
والموتُ في جَنَباتها ما أسهلَهْ
Baghdad, life resides in it with difficulty
And death in its flanks, how easy it is!
في كلّ جَنْبٍ عُصْبةٌ... قرآنُها
دَمُنا بـِمحرابِ العُروبةِ رتَّلَهْ
In every side, a faction... its Qur'an
Our blood in the shrine of Arabism recited it
فَـ «يَزيدُ» إنْ ألقَى حديثًا للهَوى
راحَ الذي تَبِعَ «الحُسينَ» فأوَّلَهْ
So if "Yazid" spoke a word of passion
One who followed "al-Husayn" went and interpreted it
غُرَباءُ واتَّفَقوا على جَسدٍ لَها
فتقطّعتْ أوصالُها، والرأْسُ لَهْ
Strangers conspired over her body
So her limbs were severed, and the head is hers
هذا العِراقُ عِراقُنا، مَهْما عَلا
صوتُ الطغاةِ، فكلُّ صمْتٍ مرحَلَهْ
This is our Iraq, no matter how loud
The voice of tyrants, every silence has its exile
هذا النشيدُ لثائرٍ، في صَدْرهِ
حَمَلَ العراقَ وذادَ عنهُ لِنحْمِلَهْ
This is an anthem for a rebel, in whose chest
He carried Iraq and defended it to carry it
