When the story is true...the cry of a Palestinian child

A child dreams of survival

For food, bread or lodging

He doesn't want a song.

Only a safe land, in the heart of the land

He can write I am a citizen, I am a child of this land.

Whose every moment in the pangs of hunger is spent in the darkness of fear,

whose father's body was never found,

whose mother was lying under the rubble

Living is a dream for him now.

Those who have taken over the land of my ancestors

Today they own the state, and I-

I am a displaced refugee...

Hundreds of hungry people line up for a little bread

While -

I had land, crops, wealth.

If I protest to get my wealth back

I am a terrorist, I am a militant, I am a murderer!

The occupier of my land is now the owner of human rights.

When we die and rot under his torture, it is a peaceful fight for justice.

What a strange society, state system of this world

whose story I am telling.

It may seem like a story to you but it is a hard reality.

let's -

Touch the soil of my Palestinian land

You will smell the corpse, you will see the ground soaked in tears

Many sisters screamed.

How many fathers have given their chests to the gun barrel of the occupying devil to save their children and families.

Will this day be like this forever?

When I learned to die, when I had to die every day

Then it's time to stand up and get the chest.

I will die, but not for future generations

I will leave it, golden day.

And darkness is not in a cave, I will live in the world of light.