Humanity

When the earth trembles from the roar of cannons,
And the sky is fiery – like the echo of a curse,
I hear the weeping of nameless regiments,
Of souls seeking peace and shelter.

In every bullet – a stranger’s confession,
In every vortex – through ash and blood –
Life burns out, like a nocturnal flash,
Like a sound cut off in mid-word.

Mothers’ tears – drops of bitter dew –
Lay upon the background of chaos and ruins.
They paved paths of hope,
So that someone could rise along them to the stars.

We do not write time only with weapons,
We write it with hands that rescue for the first time.
With eyes that see oneself in one’s neighbor,
And with a heart that heals a shattered heart.

Let explosions tear walls to pieces –
Know: humanity does not vanish in the ashes.
It lives in touches, full of warmth,
In embraces that stop fear and pain.

Let every step into the empty space –
Lead to a world where children laugh.
For the value of peace – is in the voices that resonate
Where silence once screamed in the night.

Let us raise the pure myrtle above the hell –
A symbol of healing, woven from hands.
Let its branches show the way back –
To the light, where love is stronger than weapons.