Muhammad Najem

All creation, my creator, they sold us with dirt | كل الخلق ، يا خالقي ، باعونا بالتراب

When all men fail you, call to God and tell him, God

When the medicine is ineffective

becomes impossible and the door is closed

When your loved ones get lost and they forget the beautiful past

When you are alone in the city of Idlib, just say, my God

What do we say to the children that we remove from the rubble?

How will we explain to them what is happening?

They only know love, but where are the owners of love?

My God, send us solutions from the heavens

We are tired of this injustice And we came to the door of God

O Lord of the Lords

Refugee on this door, o Lord of the lords

All creation, my creator, they sold us with dirt

I didn’t think that those Arabs would not save us

Those who wear on their heads the dress of pride, glory,and magnanimity, and say we are brothers and save each other

those who say such humiliation?

We saw nothing from the Arabs and did not send us a single message

Where is the nation of Islam? The number one billion

Did they not see these pure women? And their children

These migrants who migrated multiple times from home to home

Open the door of mercy to me, my God

O Lord of the Lords

Refugees at the door,

All creation, my creator, they sold us with dirt

All human beings joyfully live two thousand and twenty

We have been in tents in the rain for months and years

There was no stone left except he cried and said, Ah, what next?

I have no family I have no home All that remains is dust on soil

All loved ones gather on all holidays

We are dispersed in all countries

We also have our loved ones who are in prison and

there is no date for us to see them

when The moment of bombing under the rubble, and let us loved ones

O Lord of the Lords

Refugees at the door, Lord of the lords

All creation, my creator, they sold us with dirt

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *