The people has entrusted me to bow before you in its name and to wipe off the dust of time from your medals. It is most probable that you remember the people, the one you created. The ancestors applaud you from their tombs. Their hard luck did not allow them to be between your hands. The living ones applaud you because you kept them, and so do the babies that are yet to be born. Your people is loyal and extremely grateful. You improvised a country out of this desert. You created the trees and the clouds that pass over them. You created the birds that sing your name and the wells that are filled with black gold. You created the little ones who will crawl next against the rats and those who were polluted by the criminal West's ideas. The West is an impostor that envies our revolution. It wants to spoil our peaceful living. The West is impertinent; it wants us to have a constitution, while the constitution is an underling that shines your shoes. It wants [us to have] power rotation, while we want you [to stay in power] forever. We want you to be our leader “from vein to vein”, while the West wants you to disappear. We want you to become taller, so that your chest can contain the myriad medals. Without you, we have no meaning. Pregnant women will abort the fetuses that waited for a long time. Cities will turn into mere orphanages covered with tears. The Great River will dry up. The army of retirees will feel alienated; from the Japanese Red Army, the Baader Meinhoff Gang, the Red Brigades, the Fatah – Revolutionary Council, and your friend Carlos. It is hard to imagine the world without you. Daylight might leave and never come back, and the sun might turn off its light in protest. You are the light, the torch, and the compass. Mao Zedong looks at you with envy from his tomb. Lenin is jealous of your Green Book. Tolstoy envies your stories, and al Mutanabbi is jealous of your poetry. Mohammad Abdul Wahab envies your mellow voice, and Alfred Nobel is jealous because you made dynamite as popular as bread. You are the constant and the world is the variable. The names of the White House residents have changed, but you remained. The names of the Kremlin czars have changed, but you remained. The world has forgotten the names of Charles de Gaulle's heirs, but your name kept its luster. Those who succeeded each other at 10 Downing Street have gone, but you kept succeeding yourself. Your medals are increasing and the number of your epithets is growing. Your clothes are as bright and colorful as the days of your citizens. It is the era of the crowds; huge and forgiving ones. They come to you whenever you call them. They form committees and crawl. They pledge allegiance and denounce, and renew the aura of your mightiness. It is the era of the crowds. Shame on those who vote and those who are elected. He is not a president for the constitution's articles to be hanging around his neck or for him to be faced with the end of his mandate and solicit its renewal or extension. He is the leader of a revolution. He will not leave before he drives the country he created to the hell he artfully created. Has the revolution aged and has its aura lost its luster? Who pierced the fortress's wall and let in the winds? Who removed the pictures of the our brother the leader? Who showered them with insults? Where have the rats come from and how have they proliferated? Who gave the crowds hallucinogens? Who injected the subdued with the anger serum? This is terrible. The man who was addicted to exporting the revolution is being destroyed by the winds under his wings. The man who lit the fire close and far is being consumed by it today. The world that used to praise the leader's wisdom and was thirsty for [his country's] oil wells is washing its hands [off him] today. You are the inspirer, the inciter, and the detonator. You have inspired many, incited for a long time, and detonated a great deal. However, your game has become old, and your status has faded. I hear them in the squares and on TV. They want your sun to be eclipsed, your book to be folded, and your story to retire to the archives of history. Saddam Hussein used to say that he kept a bullet for his head, so as not to give his enemies the pleasure of seeing him in chains. It is hard to foretell the ending of action movies, no matter how imminent it appears. Those whom you did not have mercy on will not have mercy on you. The people has entrusted me to bow before you in its name. I am the first advisor and the senior encomiast. I am the secretary of the popular committee for entertaining the leader. I am the curator of the piles of incense. I will say the truth before I walk out on you. The time has come, and nothing delays fate. Your era was golden, but it is gone. The country is slaughtered “from vein to vein”, “from the colonel to the vein”.
