Tribute to Leader Yahya Sinwar

Who is this commander, whom you would take for a vast army?

Who is this lofty one, whose awe is like that of a mighty lion?

He is the resolve of truth, and in his onslaught, Yahya

Sinwar. Yahya Sinwar.

Yahya Sinwar. He advances and rises

with the steadfastness of the throne of the free.

In the sharpness of his eyes, you see the glow

of determination. With deep vision, at the trigger,

he toils over ideas, with a decision that

leaves only as a cutting sword.

A black flood he unleashed, invading

the dens. He crushed them in defeat and retribution.

He battered down the walls, with the toughness of the youths

of dawn, seekers of vengeance. The

masks fell, and the lowing idol was exposed.

Who bears the burdens of the nation except the revolutionaries?

Who restores its pride except

the virtuous? With his staff, he traversed

the horizons, splitting the seas. In the right hand,

upon the back, is a path of truthful poems.

A masked man, weighed down by a wound, with his staff

raided. He seeks martyrdom, not shackles

behind walls. Yahya Sinwar,

in his loftiness, the falcon of the revolutionaries. From

captivity, he soared victorious through the loyalty of free men.

Faithful, he freed brothers from the tyranny of

captivity. Amid their ordeal, they witnessed

his selflessness.

Indeed, a man of learning, steadfast in the darkness of

pre-dawn. He strives for the well-being of

his brothers and endures long hardship. With dignity,

he overcame the jailer, feeding him shame. O

A hero, whose memory will remain for generations

a beacon. After jihad's planting,

victory bears fruit. Abu Ibrahim

will reap them from the highest abode. Who

bears the الأمة's burdens but the revolutionaries?

Who restores its pride but the noble ones?

The lion of the free has taken the reins

of its march. If Al-Aqsa

seeks his aid, the hurricane

rises. He sounded a general call

and defied the terror of dangers. To protect

religion, history, homeland, and honor.

The battlefield's dust has the fragrance of smoke

and deep combat. The aggressor has tasted his might

and chewed bitterness. With a launcher, he fires

blazing lava and destruction. The army

of scoundrels, in columns, turned and fled.

He taunted faces with a threat, and they became frenzied.

In the splendor of revolution, Khan Younis is the cradle

of the finest. This commander,

you would take him for a marching army. This

imposing figure is a mighty lion.

He is the resolve and onslaught of truth, Yahya

Sinwar. Yahya

Sinwar. Yahya

Sinwar.