I don't want to see it!
Tell the moon to come,
for I don't want to see
Syria's blood on the sand.
I don't want to see it!
The wide-open moon.
A horse of unmoving clouds,
and the gray bullring of dream
with willows at its graveyards.
I don't want to see it!
Remembering dead bodies,
Send words to the Lord
to bring their tiny whiteness!
Of all the cruel things happens
with the people of Syria.
I don't want to see it!
I don't want to see it!
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