I got this from a good friend:
Invictus, by William Ernest Henley (1849-1903)
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.
Update: To those who claim the current aggression on Lebanon is an Israel-Hezbollah conflict, this may have been true before the first Lebanese civilians of this aggression were killed. The first charred baby was in everyone’s minds long before the first rockets fell inside Israeli territory. I posted this poem in solidarity with the Lebanese people's persistence against the Israeli army's crimes. To use language you understand: Lebanon will prevail.