by : Ali Rashid
The southerners are the vintage of the country, and its navel.
Its herbs that awaken miracles, its fruits that have been longed for by the skies.
Songs chase them, elegies and wars, but bullets stitched their corpses when they Were sung to.The southerners in my country are the image of god, and his liquid absence.
*Dedicated for the martyrs who fell on the 17th of July under fire by the political thieves in Iraq.
Translated from Arabic by: Saleh Razzouk and Scott Minar