Dark and misty on a winter night,
We were lost in a trail of blood and sweat.
In helpless hours, breeze, and twilight,
We perceived a hope to not forget.
To hail the newborn Messiah,
In the star of Bethlehem, we trusted.
What fool follows a celestial fire
Today, like the way we entrusted?
Quarantines and camps in fright,
As we caused warfare just to regret
Jews, Nazis, Muslims, and allies in sight;
We were anything but humans yet.
Beauty in which our hopes used to aspire,
Made our circle leave us disgusted.
The dirt in our lives like a wildfire
Engulfed us; existence rusted.
The pain like an old parasite,
Killed my memories of great upset:
My love, my language, my appetite.
We still lived like in a long debt.

.    .    .