Pity the Nation

Pity the nation that is full of beliefs and empty of religion;

Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave;

That eats a bread it does not harvest;

Pity the nation that acclaims the bully as hero;

Pity the nation that despises a passion in its dreams, yet submits in its awakening;

Pity the nation that raises not its voice save when it walks in a funeral;

That boasts not except among its ruins;

Pity the nation that will rebel not save when its neck is laid between the sword and the block;

Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggler,

and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking;

Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpeting,

and farewells him with hootings, only to welcome another with trumpeting again;

Pity the nation divided into fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation.

Khalil Gibran