أمتي — Omar Abu Risha — Saqi

My nation, do you have among the nations
A pulpit for the sword or the pen?
..

I meet you with my gaze cast down,
Ashamed of your bygone yesterday.
.. ....
And tears almost stream down, toying
With the remnants of pain’s pride.
Where is your world that inspired in
My string every peerless melody?
How often I strode, to its echoes, through
Glory’s arena and the abode of lofty pride!
...

And moved with stately grace, as though trailing
My robe over the foreheads of the stars!
My nation, how many a bleeding pang
Has choked the whisper of your glory in my mouth!
What a bleeding wound in my pride—
The healer missed it, and it did not heal!
.. ...
!؟
Does a banner rise for Israel
In the Cradle’s precincts and the holy sanctuary’s shade?!
؟
How could you overlook humiliation and not
Shake from yourself the dust of accusations?
!؟
And were you not, when tyranny attacked,
A wave of flame or of blood?!
؟
How could you advance and retreat, without
Vengeance being appeased, without taking revenge?
Hear the wailing of the sorrowful, and rejoice!
And behold the orphans’ tears, and smile!
And leave the leaders to their whims,
To consume themselves for paltry spoils.
How many a cry of 'O al-Mu'tasim!' rang out,
Filling the mouths of orphaned girls!
.....

It touched their ears, but it
Did not touch al-Mu'tasim’s chivalrous spirit.
My nation, how many an idol have you glorified
That did not bear an idol’s purity!
The wolf is not blamed for its aggression
If the shepherd is the sheep’s enemy.
So stifle complaint; without you, there would not
Be slaves of the dirham in power.
O soldier, O sacrificial ram,
O ray of smiling hope!
You never begrudged your life when
Glory’s thirsty pangs demanded it.
Blessed be the wound you bear
With honor beneath the shadows of the flag.