The Wrathful by Nizar Qabani

O pupils of Gaza...
Teach us...
A little of what you have
For we have forgotten
Teach us...
To be men

For we have men, dough they become
in the children's hands, precious diamond
How it becomes
The child's bicycle, a mine
And the silk ribbon, an ambush
How the feeding bottle nipple
If detained not
Turns into a knife

O pupils of Gaza
And hear us not
Strike...
Strike...
With all your powers
And finally firmly in your hands take matters
And ask us not

We the people of arithmetic
And of addition and of subtraction
Your wars do carry on and abstain from us
We're the deserters from the service
Your ropes do bring and hang us
We're mortals who possess not tombs
And orphans who possess not masters
We kept already to our rooms
And we asked you to fight the dragon
We've diminished, before you a thousand century
And you've grown - within a month-century

O pupils of Gaza, return not
To our writings and read us not
We are your fathers, do resemble us not
We are your idols, do worship us not
We engage in political lies and repression
And we build graves and jails
Liberate us from the fear problem in us
And expel the opium from our heads
Teach us the art of adherence to the land
And leave not the Messiah saddened
O our beloved pupils
Salam

May Allah render your day
Jasmie, from the cracks of ruined earth
You emerged farth and planted in our wound musk rose
This is the revolution of notebooks and ink
Do become on the lips melodies
Shower us heroism, and pride and from our ugliness
wash us, wash us
Fear neither Moses nor Moses' spell
And ready yourself to harvest the olives
Verily this Jewish age is an illusion
That shall collapse
Albeit sureness we posess
O madmen of Gaza
A thousand welcome in madmen
If they liberate us
Verily the age of political reason has long bygone
Do teach us madness