We will be Arabs
They will be Jews
How will God choose
They will be Arabs
We will be Jews
What is the news
It is Two Thousand and Ten
We are at it again
My son of the year 1990
Was born of a tortured land
Yet his smile was the sun of a new day begun
His laughter, the wind over sand
His eyes of absolute innocence
A Peace would surely expand
My son of the year 1990
Whose hand grew up in mine
Lies at my feet, his life extinct
We are at it again
It is Two Thousand and Ten
It is time for this to end
They may be Arabs
They may be Jews
Just please stop
God, and Life, are abused
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem