As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow
Zoulfa KatouhSözler ve Alıntılar
This is the land of your father, and his father before him. Your history is embedded in this soil. No country in the world will love you as yours does.
Time is the best medicine to turn our bleeding wounds to scars, and our bodies might forget the trauma, our eyes might learn to see colours as they should be seen, but that cure doesn’t extend to our souls.
„There are enough people hurting you,“ he whispers. „Don’t be one of them.“
Do all six-year-olds know what death is? Or is it only children of war?
“Auntie—don’t cry—when I go to Heaven—I’ll tell God—everything,”
he chokes out. I look up, and his face has gone still. His eyes are glassy, and
it looks like little stars are caught in his blue irises.
Bury me before I bury you.
His whole face is twisted in pain but no whimper
escapes his lips. Instead, through silent tears and a pool of blood, he sings
softly.
“How Sweet Is Freedom.”