The Country I love

Everyone can tell you how much they love their countries
But each one of us, has his own way to see his country
I will tell you about my country
Here, where people have a million ways to look at it

There are some people who reduce it in passport or an Identity Card
There are those who reduce it in a piece of land they own
There are those who picture it as piece of cake, to devour whenever they are filled with greed
There are those who would die for it, a thousand times a day, and nobody even notices them
There are people who deceive it, and spy on it 

In my country, there is more than just one country

There is the country which is inside a pocket, inside a bank, and inside a heart.
There is the country that lives inside people
And people with nothing to relate to it bu their address

Who is this country then? Who is this patrimony?

My country is a miserable man
Who smokes cheap tobacco
And drinks lots of coffee
Wires grow on his face
He doesn't shave his face every morning
He doesn't look in the mirror
He doesn't see all the new wrinkles, which cover his face everyday
This country is a very wide pants
Everyone can wear his own size

How do my people prefer this country?

Most people prefer it free like in our old patriotic songs
So they can get fat and breed in peace
Soldiers prefer it invaded, so they can use their rifles
Rich people prefer it just out of a war 
And much more if it is wrecked and broken
So they can rebuild it in suitable prices

Poor people sleep on Its pavement
And dream about a better tomorrow
Politicians admit their love for this country
But they always cheat on it with other less beautiful mistresses
Children think this country is just a short anthem
They repeat every morning in the school yard, in front of an old torn flag

Mothers don't understand why this country is this harsh
That it feeds their sons to the whales
Our old warriors thought it was in another place
So they went there and fought other people's battles
They came back with missing limbs, and insurance they receive every month
In this country young men are busy chasing girls
Girls are busy chasing luck
And luck is a strange man with a non Arabic figure
Immigrants send this country kisses over the ocean

Journalists take his pictures in its most shameful posters
Communists now pray for it
The sleeping crowds want it to wake up
Other sleeping crowds want it kneeling down
So they won't kneel down for others
Our most educated people like to talk about it just before they sleep
But they laugh, everybody laughs here
They can make misery such an acceptable joke
They swallow this country with all its flavors

And me
My country is the bitter morning cup of coffee
I like to drink it at once
So I don't  feel this much bitterness