سكت فقالوا هدنة من مسالم

He was silent, so they said: A truce from a peaceful man. And I spoke, so they said: A revolt from a warrior.

Between the nuance of speech and the deliberate pause for the discerning mind, lies a realm of dark suspicion and entangled paths.

Nor am I like the sea; it meets you tranquil one day, and meets you raging with terrifying, swelling crests the next.

Neither does the stillness of the sea spare the one who sinks, nor does the churning of the sea protect the one who flees.

I possess a pen—would that I never dipped it into a web of deceit or the cunning craft of a double-dealing schemer.

It once ran swiftly in the service of truth, turning away in disdain from the murky, turbid waters of worldly illusions.

Guided by an intellect rooted firmly upon the heights of age, watered by the clear springs of experience.

Whenever this free reed pen screeches in protest, false falsehood flees with the racing heart of a runaway.

Among the misfortunes of time are political alliances whose very existence sparks harsh calamities and disasters.

From my pen have poured down clouds of wrath against them, raining a downpour charged with the venom of scorpions.

Therefore, O my soul, let not impotence keep you seated; rise up to champion the betrayed and rescue your kin.

It is forbidden for a free person to sit idly while an aggressor strikes every protected sanctuary in the land with ruin.

It is intolerable for a free soul to remain silent before the tyranny of an oppressor who beats down every side of human life.

Foolishly, my people fatten the wicked wolf by surrendering to it their very humps and shoulders.

God's soldiers were never the weakest in aid, nor was His flashing sword ever dull of edge.

Among His forces are those that leveled the walls of Marid, and what the lowly mouse achieved at Ma'rib.

Among His forces are noble morals that elevate a nation toward the horizon of happiness, close to the star Al-Simak.

And they descend upon a people who plunge headlong, much like the downward plunge of sinking stars that the eye beholds.

Greatness is won by a nation led toward glory while intoxicated, drinking deeply from the river of the Milky Way.

May God bless the brotherhood of Eastern Arabs; they called out, and their unified voice resounded across the Maghreb.

They converged upon a caller of truth whom all could hear, fulfilling their ancient oaths under the protection of Arab honor.

They are my true capital, far better than gold and silver; they are the profit of my deeds and the success of my endeavors.

They are my purest spring, quenching my burning thirst whenever Mother Choice soils my drinking troughs.