The spilled blood of Syria...

I don't want to see it !
I don't want to know it !
I don't want to feel it !
I don't want to know anything
about it !

So

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,
of blood,
of horror,
and the gray bullring of dream
with fears at its homes.

Homes ?
No homes left...

I don't want to see it !
Remembering burns.
Burn flesh.
Send word to the world
of help ?
No help to come.
Bring their tiny whiteness !

No whiteness -
I don't want to see it !
I don't want to know.