Victory Is The Goal Poem by Yousif Ibrahim Abubaker Abdalla

The sun shining turns into the blue sky, this ambience has made us family as a whole; what a merciful our motherland is, what a dandy place never comes in the future.

Our heart is lost within a trace of being crazy about the fatherland; for this awesomeness Sudan of beautiful kindness people and undying the darkness of the sky, the stars come out a brighter day; our love for you will never die

Murder, wealth, awareness and tension, even life is being shattered and gone on with phantasm remote rainbow aglow; Sudan gives us nativity, like a diamond, and from it alone delightful rays like the heat's narcotic life.

The mind eternally turned off ridding with senility that will be the fruit, none other; adhered heart, it makes it sumptuous and venerable; have a pride in ground of all create verses to sawing such a glory.

Owing the first breath that revived in the limbo of harm and dead trauma; dote of sand is connected all ideals, joyful, toughness manhood till the grave snatched the heartiness for reality.

The times gone-by of soreness and the day to come that we sigh for dreams of the nationalism; It's used to recall the mind amnesia of the back in days of painful anguish kissed us deeply arduous to be survival.

The row yearning has dried the springs of the elite true cereal again be born in upshot and the flower of the trees of this life; liking green yard will not rest with vow and pledge alone, not only while the trumpet plays music stands forth to give our lives on the realm of familiar days fruits growing; this passion we have for our palace has caught our breathing spell.

Storm water is always tugging from the springs in the mountains of swift current crying to the heart that is tumbling behind self-possessed weakness; illness and death seem radiant when we hurt by rupture grief pervaded most amicable tussle, we shall not fall into atrocious endless.

The days have lost our salt every day thinking the same and discarding our hopes, I know a day will come and wash away our pain; like the sun blows out these evil stars.

Now shorn of noble brains, we lean only on, what hands can grow to build our fallout image, our streets are littered with chained men; and the drums are thuds of the spotters' spiked boots; you tangle with distress as the flagrant twins, legal code and order through the thick tube of barbed wire the walls disband and wrapped tight.

Taking a look in nakedness like a soul that is straining to catch itself in our hearts off beat with pulses of fear, And our dreams are charred pages of our history; Sudan neither blinked nor gone to sleep while the driver leapt out.