| PLEA |
| This country shaped like the head of a mare Coming full gallop from far off Asia To stretch into the Mediterranean THIS COUNTRY IS OURS. Bloody wrists, clenched teeth bare feet, Land like a precious silk carpet THIS HELL, THIS PARADISE IS OURS. Let the doors be shut that belong to others Let them never open again Do away with the enslaving of man by man THIS PLEA IS OURS. To live! Like a tree alone and free Like a forest in brotherhood THIS YEARNING IS OURS. |
Nazým Hikmet (1902-1963) |