The following poem was written by Mohamad Taher; I have translated it from its original Arabic into English to the best of my ability.

Why the wailing?
Why the mourning and wailing?

Our past and the present are the same -
And all of what we have are lies and deceit.

Our dreams are deceiving
Our morals are deceiving
Our heads, the mindless, struck by a shoe.

Even this shoe is not suitable to be worn,
not even as a headscarf.

Things became the same to us;
Death and survival,
Happiness and sadness,
Modesty and shyness.

So why the wailing?

Our children are born like flies.
Our children die like flies.

Without graves or sand.

Just like this are the streets and roads.

Just as disease and epidemic;
A disease which effects the system
And the plants on all streets and roads -
From a Word.

From a toddlers slashed neck emerges thousands of cries to damn the essence and the foundation;
To damn all governments and leadership.

Dear Lord,
This poor toddler; how did he face the knife, with his own drained blood?

From his hoarse voice,
He is calling us.

Oh adulterers of this land,
Oh garbage of history -
He is calling us.

Oh grandchildren of Holako,
And all liars -
He is calling us.

Everything you are doing is just squatting and crying.

If the Prophet knew that we are his Nation,
That we are the last of his followers,
He would have pulled his abaya from under us.

He would have pulled all jurisprudence,
He would have left us as idol-worshippers.
He would have denied us Islam and religion.

Know that we are beginning to become extinct.
Our language is beginning to become extinct.

The day will come where all we are – are tents and rods.
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