We Breathed The Air Of Freedom Without

But Silence Is Where Victims Dwell.

To Me, A Fairy Tale Seems To Have Become Reality.

We Mothers Rock Into The Heart Of The World The Melody Of Peace.

When Sleep Leaves The Body Like Smoke And Man, Sated With Secrets, Drives The Overworked Nag Of Quarrel Out Of Its Stall, Then The Fire-breathing Union Begins Anew . . .

We Breathed The Air Of Freedom Without Knowing The Language Or Any Person.