An Ode To Revolutionary Iraq Poem by Badr Shakir al-Sayyab

The agent of Qasim open fire upon the spring,
But all the illicit wealth they have amassed
Will melt like ice, to be agin water,
Gushing along streams and brooks,
Bringing back the luster of life to the dry branches,
Restoring, without loss, all stolen from them in Qasim's winter.
O Iraq !
O Iraq ! I can almost glimpse, across the raging seas,
At every turn, in every street and road and alley,
Beyond the ports and highways,
Smiling faces that say: '' The tatars have fled,
God has returned to the mosques with the break of day,
A day on which the sun shall never set!''
O Hafsa! Smile, for your mouth is a flower of the plain,
You are avenged on the traitors at the hands of my people in
revolt.
The enemy of the people is cast down to the lowest hell,
And freed now are hearts
That feared to long for an exiled brother,
That slowly were dissolving,
And when the day inclined to its end
Raised up a prayer to God:
'' Wilt thou not aid us against that Thamud?
That Lunatic enamored of every Red?
Blood flows, and the tongues of fire grow long,
Yet death and destruction rejoice him.
Burn him with flames of hellfire falling from the sky!
Cut him with a bullet, for he is the ghost of death!''
The doctor hurried to my side.
Was it that he had found a cure for the disease in my body?
The doctor hurried to my side and side:
''What is this news from Iraq?
The army has rebelled, Qasim is dead!''
What joyous, health-restoring tidings!
In my joy, I almost stood up, walked, ran,
As if cured.
Rejoice! What liberation, what release!
Rejoice! The army of the Arab nation has torn off the bonds!
O my brethren in God, In blood, in Arabism, in hope,
Arise, for tyrants are laid low,
And light has dispelled the night.
Guard well the Arab revolution
That crushed the ''comrades,'' cast down the oppressors,
For Tammuz, his splendor once stolen by the traitor,
Has arisen, and Iraq is reborn.