The East Poem by AbdelAziz Alhaider

Oh, a country located behind the bitter Sea
Oh, a country its days are fill with mourning sand
Still convoys in your desert ways are stimulating fears
Still your roads thieves pride in processed skins of their grandfathers

From hundreds of years.......
Oh, a country that is grinding his sons in the grinder of poverty and ignorance
and spraying them ashes for the wars of monopolies and the colonies...
And different types of canned treasons....
O full of superstitions.... O the open market for selling of slaves
And the spilt abdomens of abnormal gay princes…and their misguided followers
And the chairs that eaten away by the moth from centuries
O desert stretches in the memory of the time
Stories of the types of treachery Legends... suckled with milk
O twilight vomiting the fear
And day limping the ignorance
And night figuring its actual steps by myths
O ancient- modern myths
The story of all humanitarian concern and his struggle with the stone and the wheel, mud and trees
O caravan guided by an old leader singing its destruction
And with his weak eyes indicates the dusty horizon
O flags fluttering for the sadness on the extension of Ages
O emergence of the hills of the ignorance, superstition books, and open mouth as a hotbed for flies and sand
O poems that did not read before
Paintings did not stop then the painter
O the major dullness and the Minor Sultanate
O swing of worn-out roped
O boats fissured, tar
And palms of burning fronds
O women without men, men without women
Uh... o that Middle, which kill me every day
Oh hell....
Oh renewed hell