By: Ahmed Al-Sheikh
And the memory within us is ‘sacred’… it has wandered through our imagination, wandering
O bird, fly up to the sky… and spread your delicate wings
The days of plenty are gone… they have turned to lean days
Your memory has not brought hope… and the heart has grown faint
May we, after this, grow hard. .
May the heart one day be dry.
But the memory is sacred… it has not drifted through our imagination, it has drifted
