They close the crossing;
so, lift your suitcases and go home.
They fill the sea with warships,
so your dreams sink.

They dress you in a robe of despair,
so you can't see life’s glamour.
They call you a terrorist,
so you have no right to self-defense.

They mock your bravery,
so you learn to hate yourself.
They grip your tongue,
so your mouth can't form the truth.

They drown you in darkness,
so you can't see the light of hope.
They drive the light from your morning,
so you fear the sun.

Don't put your hands to your face;
you will caress only ashes.
Don’t bother to collect life’s remnants;
they will only mystify you.
Pick up your suitcases and go home.
They have closed the gates.