In 1956 it was not Port Said alone
That bled — each citizen's heart bled its own,
To compensate for what she had forgone
Beloved Egypt, how I love thee so,
Praise God who made my passion thy bestow;
I love thee till, from loving thee so deep,
I fear the very passion I must keep;
Hopes breathed again when victory appeared,
Since strife's great throne a mighty one endeared;
I nursed him on pure struggle's milk and might,
And chose him hero to defend thy right;
This leader of a rising generation,
Toward the Pleiades since he began his station;
His love in firmness showed its truth and grace,
Since he found joy in meeting every face;
His love in justice showed itself to foes,
Pure truth — rejoice then in the peace he knows;
His love, a leader purified from sin,
From every guilt that seemed angelic kin;
His love, nobility — we all aspire,
The remedy for wounds is in his fire;
Dost thou recall when enemies defied,
On land or in the air above thy side;
They said: We'll raid the land of Arabs ere
Thy morning comes or dawn breaks on the sphere;
Then lo, thy army challenged all their wrath,
And overthrew the wicked, evil path;
Men bore their arms with women at their side,
The child defended thee with youthful pride;
Scarce days had passed upon our martyrs' fall,
When victory returned with resolve for all;
Each called his Lord with faith firm as the dart
That cuts the thorny wire and breaks apart;
Revenge shook their southern lands with dread,
Weeping cries of wounded rose and spread;
This wounded one, though blood still flowed amain,
Dictated to history his love's refrain;
He wept not for the pain that wracked his frame,
But wept when darkness sought his sheltering name;
The stars wept and the darkness camped in fear,
At horror facing armies of thy dear;
Tears of yearning for near victory's sign,
Its landmarks fragrant as sweet musk divine;
And when thy Lord surpassed their every thought,
Praise God my Lord — He answered as we sought;
What matter if thou raised a beacon high,
And let great glory come to meet thine eye;
On every land a glimpse of thine own art,
Praise God, Creator — how sublime thou art;
I melted from my passion's depth and pain,
Far be slain lovers from thy love — abstain;
What can I do when heart with love doth beat,
And love's a pulse from depths where Lord and meet.
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