I envy you with envy that cuts my heart, O lion towering over the Caucasus Mountains, I envy you as you are married to the gun and martyrdom every day, while I suffer from unprecedented spinsterhood. I envy you as you practice steadfastness and optimism between the trenches of the mujahideen, watching the endless streams of deafening explosions, as you mock the flames and the darkness of the black smoke emanating like a crow around you.

I envy you, O elixir that flowed in the veins of Chechnya, releasing souls who love jihad and freedom from their dens. I envy your head, which is worth more than a million dollars, and I pity my head, which is only worth another two hundred dinars every month, this head that takes shelter every night to a puffy pillow after a long run after a loaf of bread that has the speed of rats.

I envy your lofty stature that does not bow except to its Creator, and your determination that shines a piercing beam from your eyes, and I wish I could stand even for a few seconds next to you, that I might catch the infection of pride and dignity, I am that microscopic creature that mimics history and memorizes holy verses, and you make history and transform the verses into beings walking on the earth.

Your head is always raised, because the glory is for you and your mujahideen brothers after Allah and His Messenger "and the glory is for Allah, His Messenger and the believers" and because you are confident that the victory is yours even after a while "and our soldiers are the victors" and the humiliation is for your enemies who are armed with piles of tanks and black gunpowder "those who oppose Allah and His Messenger are the lowest of the low" Your motto is as the motto of your Prophet and his companions before, "O Mansour, die ... . O Mansur, die!" What death is this that you are driving to the Russian tyrants, what dark fate awaits them, and what a deep abyss you will throw them into, echoing behind Umar ibn al-Khattab addressing Abu Sufyan in Uhud, "Lie, enemy of God, it is not the same, our killers are in paradise, and your killers are in the fire ... "

Yes, a fire is burning in the land of Chechnya under the feet of the advancing armies, a fire that burns the uncleanness of the unclean, and purifies itself to remain high, proud, and dear.

Greetings to you, O lion of God, the overcomer by faith, who relies on the one God alone, and congratulations to you as you stand alone and stand out, opening your chest to the fire while Muslims sleep and enjoy the warmth of the filthy embrace in the world of American Islam.