Mesopotamia Poem by Hamza Al Saieedy

Peace upon the wind that rustle home,
Through the ruins to the golden dome.
News, Than gusts carving the eternal sand;
And ships overriding The blacken land!
Loud calling by your moon and sun:
Mesopotamia all the run!
Your darks is the tender and the days!
Even the days are lost with says!
That blacken green, (the sight of palm) ,
Rivers flows with a broken calm.
My home is where the glory born!
Lived and lives through the rising morn.
.
.
.
Dropped to you with a new reality,
Cause of life has the sun's clarity