Oh Honey among all nations,
I chose that nothing preventing you from a planet among stars.
I was afraid you will die.
I chose my place in the open.
But I make your place in the heaven in the sky.
I sometimes flew high search for you in the sky.
I sometimes lost search for you between the stars and the sky.
And I am chronic to you, my mother country.
I lost myself among stars but I am still in the sky.
I am inflexible on my emotion.
And I am concerned on separation.
I am the hardest on my anxieties and alienation.
I threw all my writing here and there.
And scattered in Love all of the remaining unhappiness.
I have decided to murder my exile.
I said to prison, and I told the jailer goodbye.
And I am to you inveterate, my native soil.
The wounds had been collected from the collection of my wounds and pain.
I had mixed my heave a sigh with pain that was lived with me again.
I became the remedy for my friend's disease despite ordeals and suffering.
And I am frequent to you, my fatherland.
Oh Honey, I chose your face so that the road to the blue.
I chose to be your hair the flag flying for me.
I chose to be the eyes or the way I hope to lend a hand through.
I chose your whole body to be high elevation and nobility.
I chose you and only you, profoundly so nothing preventing me to be my heaven.
And I am habitual to you, my homeland.
Oh Honey, mercy of the profoundly sad on Iraq and carries the whining from Iraq.
Do not be sad for the slaughter of a martyr in the squares.
No grievance beloved martyr who painted kisses on the hand from the mouth of mother.
Kisses painted from the beloved lipstick.
Greetings came from the entrance gate of the home.
And I am returning to you, my homeland, Ya Wattany.
Dhia Soramli
kadhem@hotmail.com
15/7/2005