“Arab children,Corn ears of the future,You will break our chains,Kill the opium in our heads,Kill the illusions.Arab children,Don't read about our suffocated generation,We are a hopeless case.We are as worthless as a water-melon rind.Dont read about us,Dont ape us,Dont accept us,Dont accept our ideas,We are a nation of crooks and jugglers.Arab children,Spring rain,Corn ears of the future,You are the generationThat will overcome defeat. ”

“We killed you and it was not new for us, we killed the companions of the Prophet and the friends of God. O how many Messengers did we slay? O how many imams? We killed you and you prayed the night prayer, as all of our days are struggle - and all of our days are Karbala.”

“Our shouting is louder than our actions,Our swords are taller than us,This is our tragedy.In shortWe wear the cape of civilisationBut our souls live in the stone age”

“We are a thick skinned people with emtpy souls. We spend our days playing dice, chess, or sleeping - and we say we are the best people that ever came to mankind?”

“These children are our future. We were children once. All of us were. Bad bloods are an evolution. They are a mutation, not a disease, and we will all have these special abilities one day. Are we going to kill all of our children then? Are we going to kill our future? Because that is what we are heading towards. A dead future.”

“Jerusalem! My Love,My TownI wept until my tears were dryI prayed until the candles flickeredI knelt until the floor creakedI asked about Mohammed and ChristOh Jerusalem, the fragrance of prophetsThe shortest path between earth and skyOh Jerusalem, the citadel of lawsA beautiful child with fingers charredand downcast eyesYou are the shady oasis passed by the ProphetYour streets are melancholyYour minarets are mourningYou, the young maiden dressed in blackWho rings the bells at the Nativity Church, On sunday morning?Who brings toys for the childrenOn Christmas eve?Oh Jerusalem, the city of sorrowA big tear wandering in the eyeWho will halt the aggressionOn you, the pearl of religions?Who will wash your bloody walls?Who will safeguard the Bible?Who will rescue the Quran?Who will save Christ, From those who have killed Christ?Who will save man?Oh Jerusalem my townOh Jerusalem my loveTomorrow the lemon trees will blossomAnd the olive trees will rejoiceYour eyes will danceThe migrant pigeons will returnTo your sacred roofsAnd your children will play againAnd fathers and sons will meetOn your rosy hillsMy townThe town of peace and olives”

“My lover asks me:“What is the difference between me and the sky?”The difference, my love,Is that when you laugh,I forget about the sky”