Good morning poetry

My country, good morning

Good morning..my country

Good morning.. O Earth.. We have loved her for a long time

The morning of your dewy day.. in the bosom of your green spring

Morning musk and amber

Morning figs and olives.. lemon and thyme

Good morning, your mountains

Embrace in the morning and in the evening.. your green meadows

We love you.. we miss you.. we save souls.. even more

Your love.. is one of our aspirations.. and all our existence.. is greater

Good morning, land that protected you.. We will not be conquered

If your chain is too long, we have sworn that tomorrow it will be broken

Good morning..my country

The morning sun.. in its horizons.. proud and strutting

Fajr prayer in your hands

Accept your cheeks .. luster and pampering

Good morning..my country

Poetry is good.. Poetry is good for you, it is said

And if I sang.. mawala, then does your eyes please others with mawla?

Morning processions of children.. You who adore children

Your name is loved by children

Good morning, hunting... in shackles... in shackles

Good morning lovers.. They will not find you without your father-in-law

They didn't travel.. the travel stick

You are the commandment of.. generations.. for generations.. for generations.. for generations

Good morning..my country

The morning of Al-Aqsa Mosque.. a lofty prisoner..

His father still hasn't broken his chains.

Its minarets are calling me..you are gone for a long time..

And cheer me up...come come...

And the return remains.. in the dawns.. and the evenings..

Good morning..my country..

Morning promoter singing..

Good morning, Nisreen and the call..

Morning glory and red freedom.. narrated by the blood of the martyrs..

Your morning.. my country.. with your sun.. vanquishing the darkness..

I love you.. in our sad feelings.. the leaves of the desert..

Good morning my country..

Good morning, my country.

Good morning..

I came to you carrying a bird's wing..

I came to you eagerly..

By God and God, take my hand.

Grant me comfort to wipe the tears from my cheeks

The winds of passion scatter in the ribs of my body.

And fresh linden from the blood of my loved ones..

Good morning, my country

Good morning

From a heart on the brink of passion crying..

And from two eyes burning in silence with their flames..

A strange lament speaks..

O my country..

Here are the letters of my song scented with blood..

The rose smelled of it, leaning on the musk..

Good morning, my country

Good morning

Morning poetry and thought..

The morning of the seed word..

Bitter coffee morning..

Spinning wheels.. cups..

And pendants.. embroidered with cardamom and fragrant love..

You travel from Ruba Al-Aqsa..

For a bright heart..

in the threshing floor..

Good morning, my country.

Good morning to the trees..

For almond blossom in my homeland..

Embracing the grain of rain, humming the melody of a song..

He plays it on strings...

Hugging her.. hugging her.. on the snow

So he rejoices at meeting Marji..

Good morning and people..

To the loved ones in my sanctuary..

To the heroes in families..

To the martyrs at the wedding..

For the heart of a girl in the Yarmouk camp..

I laughed.. the forgotten passion..

That's my heart, I'm going..

She has my life.. she has my soul..

I serve it on a plate of perfume..

Good morning my country..

Good morning..