This Iraq will reach the ends of the graveyard. <br />It will bury its sons in open country <br />generation after generation, <br />and it will forgive its despot . . . . <br />It will not be the Iraq that once held the name. <br />And the larks will not sing. <br />So walk - if you wish - a long time. <br />And call - if you wish - <br />on all the world's angels <br />and all its demons. <br />Call on the bulls of Assyria. <br />Call on a westward phoenix . . . . <br />Call them <br />and through the haze of phantoms <br />watch for miracles to emerge <br />from clouds of incense. <br /> <br />Translated by: Khaled Mattawa<br /><br />Saadi Youssef<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-vision-23/
