Up above the cloudless sky, it was pale red.
Wherever he stepped, it was always in this prison of the soul.
Cries and screams echoed, trickling blood didn’t stop.
So he wondered where humanity is.
It was the dawn of misery.
It was dawn when he lit his fire of faith
And he collected his scattered courage
So he wandered, believing to see the Land of Freedom
It was the dawn of the rising hopes.
He ran, and ran, and ran, and never once looked back.
And his throat was burning and his legs were weak
So he crawled his way in the path of thirsty sands
It was the dawn of burning air.
He passed countless dawns, noons, and nights
The day before today seemed far, far behind
And what left were only blurry footsteps, those swallowed by the dust
Then he set his jaw, there will be none stopping him.
It was the dawn of the new spirits.
It was also dawn when he saw those promising gates,
In the further south of the horizon
There, there! There it was, the Land of Freedom!
And he could feel the tears, clouding his vision.
It was the dawn of satisfaction.
But it wasn’t dawn when he crouched down in the soft grass,
It wasn’t dawn when he stepped his feet in the land of his dreams.
His breath was shallow, his pulse quickened like a lightning speed.
But he smiled, and his eyes fluttered close from happiness.
Cause he know, tomorrow will be the dawn of freedom. His freedom.
Heidira, 5th of September'12