I think of the sun, and her wild rays.
The year we had nothing to lose, but lost it anyways,
in the cursed country of the fox.
That summer…oh that summer, still lingers in our memory,
lives in our minds and skin, rent free.
The ear-piercing voices of the starved and the mutilated, broke, loose chaos, crashed our thermostat dreams.
We couldn’t take it any more…but like a newborn’s, our cries weren’t taken seriously.
Once again that summer felt like an everlasting winter, so cold and cruel.
At that instant, a child named hope was dead before it was born…and oh dear, the whole world attended its funeral with silent tears and murmurs. Threw us into that irredeemable place, stuck with nothing but disconsolation and fear.
Out from that gloomy past,
today we stand at last
on our grounds, which, with tears, have been watered.
Believing ourselves towards all we have tried to become-free and alive.
Although that is harder than it sounds, the desire for it is there and it’s hungry and stronger
After all, what is hope, if not us, the children of a doomed generation?
What is more resilient than a child’s stubbornness?
We all need hope, like a car needs fuel to keep going, to climb hills after hills.
Although science forgets to mention it as a vital need for our survival.
But guess what? We did it! We took our wings and learned to fly again.
And we won’t stop until we lift with us every voice there is and sing a harmonious hymn
to the upcoming generation.
Till’ the air goes out of our lungs,
Till’ the theaters boom with people fighting for their seats,
just like beggars fighting for a piece of bread.
Till’ we once again become the heart of freedom and tourism and education…
Till’... We’re not dreaming anymore. Till’ it’s there: tangible and real.
Till’ we’re safe. Alive. And free.
If that’s too much to ask for today…
Tomorrow, I’ll ask again.