Love for the Homeland
The homeland is a place with which a person has a long-standing historical connection. It is where one belongs, the birthplace of ancestors, and a symbol of security, safety, and a dignified life. The homeland is represented by family and friends, and love for it is an integral aspect of our affection for Islamic faith.
Beautiful Poetry by Ibn Al-Rumi About the Homeland
Indeed, I have a homeland, which I vowed never to sell,
And I shall not see anyone else owning it forever.
I have known it since the years of youth and the blessings,
Like the blessings of a people now sheltered in its shade.
How dear were the homelands to men,
For the memories spent in their youth reside there.
Whenever they remember their homelands,
It recalls the tales of childhood, stirring feelings for them.
My soul has become so accustomed to it,
As if it were a body – if it departs, it will be lost.
The homeland is like a mother; if one betrays it,
It is akin to betraying one’s own mother.
A homeland for the foreigner, and a nation,
A playground for tyrants and a battleground for opposers.
O nation! You have struggled for generations,
Is your stillness a deep slumber or a deathly silence?
O land, where wolves have roamed freely,
I know that you are the resting place of lions.
What hesitation in our march, as if we are
Walking on thorns and sharp painful bushes.
Will we ever ascend, though filled with dread,
And the shame of being led astray?
Can we rise one day while our men,
Are weak like the aged and light like the youth?
Woe unto the shackles of iron! For we are
Captured by the plague of division beneath these shackles.
Ahmed Shawqi’s Poetry about the Homeland
The difference between day and night makes one forget,
Kindly remind me of my youth and the days of joy.
Describe to me a delightful time from my youth,
Carved from the dreams I have cherished.
It swept me away like the playful breeze,
And a sweet year passed, a delicious theft.
Did Egypt fade away? Did my heart forget her,
Or did time mend its wounds upon me?
As nights pass, it becomes tender,
And the oaths of long nights frame my heart.
When the ships arrive, they echo,
Late at night, or return after a call.
A monk in the ribs becomes aware of the ships,
Every time they wake up, they sing a new song.
O daughter of the sea, your father is not stingy,
He is not addicted to restricting and holding back.
Is it forbidden for the warblers of the tree,
While it is permissible for the birds of every kind?
Every home is more deserving of kin, except
In vile and corrupt ideas and practices.
My soul is a cauldron; my heart a sail,
My tears flow upon their course.
Make your face a lighthouse, and your course,
Set between the sand and the hidden treasures.
My homeland! If I were preoccupied with eternity,
My heart would still long for you in eternity.
My heart is thirsty for the shade of the trees,
A thirst mirrored in the shadow of the sun.
By Allah’s witness, you have never left my sight,
For not even a moment, I have not sensed your presence.
Morning and thoughts arise in your encampment,
And evenings are graced in your blessed share of land.
And I see the peninsula as if it were a garden,
Its birds tuning in with melodic bells.
It is Belqis in the groves, a palace,
On waves, and without flaw or blemish.
It is enough for the Nile to be the bride,
For it has never been incarnated in the hymns before.
She wears a beautiful garment in the evenings,
Between the threads of Sana’a and Qas.
The Nile blushes and hides behind a bridge,
Between nudity and garment.
And I see the Nile like a precious stone in its valley,
Even if it were the Kawthar bestowed upon the thirsty.
Son of the sky’s water, with a pompous train,
That dazzles the eyes and blinds them.
You will find no one in its retinue but the grateful,
In a verdant haven, acknowledging the privilege of unions.
And I see the sad Giza, mourning,
Unable to awaken from its lamentation.
It raised the uproar of the streams upon it,
And the questions of the reeds whispering about it.
And through the palms, their braids become hair,
And they took off their adornments without a necklace or chain.
Poetry by Habib Al-Ziyoudi about the Homeland
I poured my finest poetry into its valleys,
I would not be poetry if you were not part of it.
This is my land, and no height can challenge it,
In the arena of glory or even in the constellations nearby.
And if the noble Arab steed becomes thirsty,
Our blood will flow as water to nourish her.
O poetry! Be like a palm tree that shades her,
And be a refuge and love in her nights.
And you, my homeland, extending in our veins,
Your love surpasses everything in this world.
Without your lofty Kaaba, my poems would stand still,
These verses or the essence of its meanings would wander.
These are your attributes, and when counted,
I realize I cannot enumerate them all.
And you, faithful ones, preserving your promises,
Surrounded by purity, your past, and your legacy.
You were its lanterns by night; if the earth swayed,
You stood firm, becoming its anchors.
My songs are dedicated to you, for they hold
The fragrance of your love, igniting them with light.
This is my country, where the free have arisen,
Full moons of truth shining through its darkness.
They adorned cities with their crimson blood,
And beautified its valleys with their dreams.
They taught people that death is a melody,
Where the martyr sings with faith.
As we tread the path of conquest, we ensure,
That our hearts carry determination through every path.
We have raised your flags high,
And believe we are the pillars of your honor.
We carry them in the open air,
Deep within our hearts without shunning your aspirations.
And this land, even if faced with decline,
We shall revive it with love not wealth.
Poetry by Ibrahim Al-Mundhir about the Homeland
I am free; this land is my homeland,
I seek its glory to live and prosper.
I do not call for a revolution or uprising,
Nor do I call for an organized army.
I only call for the betterment of my land, for it is
My light when the darkness of misery descends.
Goodness lies in schools that are sought,
For they are the ladder to glory and pride.
Unite them and spread knowledge among them,
For the remedy for the land is in knowledge.
Indeed, he who gives money is noble,
But he who spreads knowledge is even greater.
I do not boast of my current status,
As a deputy facing trials and challenges.
Sometimes I cry out and at other times I remain silent,
While the calamities bear heavily upon me.
My pride stems from what I have been,
As the younger generation gathers around me.
They recognized in the sky a deity,
Who provides aid and compassion to all.
And they knew they were all brothers,
Striving for glory and honor.
This is how nations rise; otherwise,
The ruin of the land is inevitable.
O wealthy ones, you have lived as you wish,
Even to this day, you have not faced a calamity.
O wealthy ones, preserve and spread
Knowledge, and support every orphan.
O wealthy ones, be generous, or else,
Those with weak homes will surely protest.
The throne of the wealthy, even if barren,
Will crumble if its reign endures long enough.
Poetry by Mustafa Sadiq Al-Rafe’i about the Homeland
My homeland is in my tongue and in my blood,
My heart glorifies it and my mouth prays for it.
There is no goodness in one who does not love his homeland,
Nor in a lover if he does not feel its ecstasy.
And he who is sheltered by his home, yet denies its good,
Is but a beast above a lands unworthy.
Have you not seen that when a bird comes to its nest,
It finds refuge, and in its wings, it sings joyfully?
No nation can call itself home unless it dedicates itself,
For when twilight comes, it clings to that loyalty.
It is as if, for the people, it is like the sun, unceasing,
Illuminating them all, even among the blind.
Whoever wrongs the homeland or forgets its rights,
Will face the darkest trials in life.
There’s no goodness in those who, when they love their homes,
Choose to weep over a fallen abode.
As those nights have been closed to their inhabitants,
He who does not learn from time has much to learn.
What uplifts nations is not done by others,
Is there any rise for people but through their ascent?
Whoever has excellence yet withdraws their gifts,
Is looked upon by his people as shameful.
And whoever enjoys his elegance and riches,
Is surely miserable if his brother lives in hardship.