Without the sirens, Our fathers heard the marriage bells. Dear wind, Please ferry this plaint to The sons and daughters Whose umbilical cords knew this soil, Tell them, Yes tell them That to be someone else is expensive, And ask them To choose between the apparels weaved with our toil And the garments that swam the sea.
Without the sirens, Our fathers heard the marriage bells.
Before the cathedrals, We knew good and evil. Before the cathedrals, We knew the way to our GOD. Before the cathedrals, We knew. What happened to us, Sons and daughters of the soil? Why did we call our sacred land evil? Why did we call our cultural values primitive? Why did we look down on ourselves?
We’ve allowed people kill our essence. How do we then enjoy the fruits of our land?