لاجل تنتصري

مهزوم في حربك لاجل تنتصري

وبعود شبابي باسندك

ف إزاي

في وجودي لسه قادرة تنكسري

يا انة الراجعين

ف لهيب صحاري الحلم

بيجرجروا الخيبه

ويجمعوا الدهشه.من وش شهداءهم

يهدوها للعالم

بيواجهوه بالعار

يادمع أم ف مشربية الانتظار

لسه النهار ما وفاش

ورد أحبابها من عتمة الغيبة

يا وصية مكتوبة بالدم

ساعة الفجر

ساقية السكك حواديت

والنوت مقامات

فيها الصبا غلاب .ساقية التاريخ أصحاب

ما حد فيهم مات

 بيعلموا الآتي

درس النضال تاني

ياجرح نازف في مستشفى ميداني

ما لمهوش تصريح

على لسان الزيف

إن الجراح لمت

ياثورة ما تمت

من فرط ما اتخانت

هي صحيح هانت

وللا اللي هان إحنا

مابين سجون وقبور

حاجزين مطارحنا

متقسمة م القدم

بالجور,ومع ذلك

ضاحكين على روحنا

وكإننا راضيين

مع إننا كافرين بما جرى فيكي

مين غيرنا شال سيفه

أما اتغدر بيكي

وسلموكي بلاش,للسفلة والأوباش

مين غيرنا في المعمعة

كان عمره يفديكي

ياست أحبابنا

وحبنا ليكي

من غير أمل في اللقا

إيه فايدة الأشواق.

سباق على دربك

ومعين على كربك

وإذا انكتب لي ف يوم

يا ستنا قربك

هاعيش لسلمك فدا

وأموت شهيد حربك

Defeated in a war fought for your victory – with the strength of my youth, I hold you up.

So how – how could you still be broken in my presence?

Cries of those returning, through the flaming desert of a dream –defeated in a war fought for your victory.

With the strength of my youth, I hold you up. So how – how could you still be broken in my presence?

Cries of those returning, through the flaming desert of a dream – dragging their defeat along

collecting the awe from the faces of their martyrs.

They gift it to the world, confronting the world with itʼs shame.

Tears of a mother, looking out of her window, longing still – for the day to come with the promise fulfilled – and the return of her loved ones from the darkness of absence.

A testament written in blood at dawn – inspiring stories across lands and melodies in songs.

A legend in which youth are victorious, and comrades made history – yet, they never truly died.

They live on by teaching us to keep resisting.

An open wound in a makeshift field hospital – empty words of fraud would never heal it.

If only those wounds could heal. A revolution that never had a chance from all the times it was betrayed.

Left for dead.

Or was is us who were left for dead?

Between prison cells and graves, our seats are reserved.

Everything was already decided for us.

Weʼre running out of time, but weʼre living in denial.

We pretend that we are content, even though we refuse to accept what they have done to

you.

Who, but us, drew their swords to protect you from betrayal? Yet you were betrayed – handed over to frauds and criminals.

Who would be willing to sacrifice their lives to save you, but us?

Our beloved, we cherish you!

But what is the point of longing for you, if there is no hope of finally meeting?

I will always run to you when you need me – and I will help you through your anguish.

If I was ever meant to one day meet you –I would sacrifice my life for your peace, and die a martyr of your war.

If I was ever meant to one day meet you – I would sacrifice my life for your peace – and die a martyr of your war.

Defeated in a war fought for your victory – with the strength of my youth, I hold you up. So how–

 how could you still be broken in my presence?

Cries of those returning, through the flaming desert of a dream.

I will always run to you when you need me –and I will help you through your anguish.

If I was ever meant to one day meet you - I would sacrifice my life for your peace - and die a martyr of your war.