But silence is where victims dwell.

We mothers rock into the heart of the world the melody of peace.

We breathed the air of freedom without knowing the language or any person.

World, they have taken the small children like butterflies and thrown them, beating their wings, into the fire--

But silence is where victims dwell.

To me, a fairy tale seems to have become reality.

Instead of a homeland I hold the metamorphoses of the world.