SYRIAN MARTYR

Tied to the crossbar of a bed

Masked

Holded by wicked hands

Under a crucifix

Christ cries but says nothing

This young Syrian woman

She died crucified

While the old Sanhedrin

Scatters voices

On human rights

And anti-Semitic stories

The lodges in their arguments

Were always false

Mendacious

Satanic

Come down from the cross

You who have believed yourself

If you are the son of God

That divine silence

All history pierces

A treacherous Jewish hand

The executing arm Alcaida

Crime that cries out to heaven

The devil has returned

To the land where it all began

Syria was always Christ's

I cry, old man

Journalist over the remains

Of this young crucified woman

Outraged by some henchmen

Without soul

They hit us believers

A stab wound