We thought we had reached the depths of despair
when the flames of the Mongol hordes
burnt us alive.
So we thought...

Warplanes shattered any doubt;
they struck Gaza
and every drum of war beat out
There under the ruins of their home
an old man and a child groan, alone
while grieving women wail
a new lament for their country.

These are their words:

Savage, snarling oppression leapt at you
and alone you howled at brutal night.
Was dawn not due to break in the East,
where people lie, fast asleep?
In their dreams
were you just a fleeting image,
my orphan country?

My country is glory
draped over an ancient land,
a treasure ¬— its hands bear stigmata
clutching a mystery
that hastens the Day of Judgment.
Will the merciful Messiah not answer,
to bring us down from the cross of defeat,
O God of resolve?

My country, despite every setback,
be sure —
we will sweep away every tyrant,
every oppressor, every foe
we are fated to vanquish
with a weapon called the longing of refugees,
my beloved country.

My country, we will not restrain nor resign ourselves,
for endurance walks hand in hand with bloody struggle.
The dread of war criminals
is an ally to survive new Nakbas,
so stand firm, my country,
endure—
and live on!