I Am Not A Lover Of Israel,

If The Olive Trees Knew The Hands That Planted Them, Their Oil Would Become Tears.

And I Tell Myself, A Moon Will Rise From My Darkness.

Standing Here, Staying Here, Permanent Here, Eternal Here, And We Have One Goal, One, One: To Be.

For The Arabs In Israel There Is Always A Tension Between Nationality And Identity.

We Suffer From An Incurable Malady: Hope.