The whiff of their blood
When the thunder cracks,
When the sky shines,
When the clouds shift,
A drop falls
On the fields, the ground, the motherland…
On which the greats sacrificed their
lives
On which they became martyrs
On which every drop of their blood
scattered for the freedom of the holy motherland
On which the struggles took place
On which many died to free their
nation from the clutches of aggression
On which we became free…
..
That drop when the land absorbs
It leaves an aroma….
This aroma gives me the senses of
those sacrifices
And this is…
The fragrance of sacrifices of
martyrs
The whiff of every drop of blood they
sacrificed
The smell of motherland
Our national land….
No comments:
Post a Comment