O land of many beauties
with the sea and land
and mountains and valleys
and plains waiting for their seed
so rich and eager to provide
all your children’s need


Why do you kill your soul
your precious sons and daughters
mothers and fathers
the poets and the artists as they speak
in words and colors and tunes
with inspiration for the weak


Why do you hate their heart
and cut the umbilical cord
as they draw from your soil
the creators mind and will so free
without a threat or harm
providing eyes and light to see


Why do you chase my friends
the students and the eastern tribes
the Brave girl and my brother Savash
whipping with threats to instill your fears
forcing them to run and hide
hard and cold and blind to their tears


How come you’re so ignorant
and foolish in your pride
to forget your history of old
the blood of the martyrs sown like seed
and so is the tears of my friends
a new harvest in the midst of the weeds