Far from the rumors of unchained crowd

Screaming “where are our vital Freedom

To speak, write, decide, and act? “.

Far from the prisons where those so-called renegades

For their actions and authentic writings, to have on site held debates

And for their opinions have been imprisoned

By leaders sorting them like heretics,

Exhausted and out of breath, the East they left.

Far from the dogmas and acts of a dictator,

Away from the bombs and rifles in number,

Of the shaven cities and the debris,

Far from the watchtowers and the barriers

And the furies of warlike bands

Which trample, crush, and send to death,

In the name of a vengeful God,

People known as unfaithful and twisted,

Of this garden of Persia become Hell, they flee.

Far from mental and physical distress

With nothing to eat or anything to dress,

In spite of their youth, they are seen dying

And millions with a fantastic power

Denying slavery and obstacles, with the only luggage,

They went with their only friend, the courage.

To live again, in new country refuge they find.

Glorious, bright as on the Thabor mount,

Close to the vital richness and in consent

With the choice given by a Sovereign state,

Rocked by the routine and the benign problems,

Close to the magic and mysterious mountains,

Of the enchanted lakes and mythical valleys,

Filled of hope, in this country, they elected residence.

It rains today and people are moody.

It happens nothing extraordinary,

All is well, one should not complain…

Image via Wikipedia

Image via Wikipedia