By Aram Qania
Sleep, sweet mother, sleep
In your poor Kurdistan sleep
I wish you could sleep in the depths of their eyes
Those who have for a long time wanted to sell Kurdistan
Be careful. Don’t let anyone steal your money
I wish you’d get more
Does this mother have martyred sons?
If yes, why does she live like this?
If not, I have the same question.
If not her sons, then her brothers
her brother’s sons
her sister’s sons
Anyway, terrible grief has visited her
Please, let’s help her
If her children aren’t martyrs, may the face of the earth be black
Sleep, sweet mother, sleep
In your poor Kurdistan sleep
I wish you could sleep in the depths of their eyes
Those who have for a long time wanted to sell Kurdistan
Be careful. Don’t let anyone steal your money
I wish you’d get more
Does this mother have martyred sons?
If yes, why does she live like this?
If not, I have the same question.
If not her sons, then her brothers
her brother’s sons
her sister’s sons
Anyway, terrible grief has visited her
Please, let’s help her
If her children aren’t martyrs, may the face of the earth be black
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