In the midst of a genocide, we
have nowhere to hide except in each other’s arms.
So I come from exile to hide
having sublimed my tears
like Arak that I’ll never drink alone.
When I find his arms and he finds mine,
he chokes on his words and I, with clouds
in my eyes, realise for the first time
that we do not know joy without tears.
One day, they’ll tire from killing us,
and their carnage ‘ll come to a standstill
and you’ll watch us shed the tears of joy.
One day we’ll be free as feral birds
and no less equal on human rights
and you’ll watch us shed the tears of joy
until we have no more tears for joy,
this kind of joy, to draw from our eyes,
and then we shall fall in each other’s arms
for the joy of not having to hide.