POETRY

Walking in the flatness of this world,
listening to the same old abrupt sound.

What if our memories hadn't been lost ,
and our ancestors claimed the laces of our roots?

Then the North would be the South, the East would be the West
and in the middle we would remain
in the utopia we've been longing for

Alas, history has proved us wrong,
from our dreams we've been awakened,
from our homes we've been kicked off

They shall take everything we own,
but never our dreams of hope.�