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

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

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

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

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

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

But silence is where victims dwell.