Mark the words of some wise

Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave, eat the bread it does not harvest, and drinks a wine that flows not from its own wine press.



Pity the nation that acclaims the bully as hero, and that deems the glittering conqueror as bountiful.



Pity the nation that despises a passion in its dream, yet submits in its awakening.



Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggle and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking.



Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpeting, and farewells him with hooting, only to welcome another with trumpeting again.



Pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years and whose strong men are yet in the cradle.



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



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

Kahlil Gibran