to fall on our knees
A call from the Holy Mountains to the Sons and Daughters of Kurdistan
In the history of a nation, there will be a time.
When silence is no longer sacred.
When patience becomes a betrayal,
When dignity demands fire,
That time is now
Don't you see it?
They deleted your names from the map.
But the rocks still roll.
Your tongue is forbidden,
But your kids still dream about it.
They divided your land.
But your blood flows over every border like a river.
They have burned and destroyed your villages.
But the ashes still shines.
They say: "Kurdistan has never been".
But the museums of the world are full of our stolen gods, our statues, our scenarios, our crowns.
Look at the museums worldwide where the relics of our culture and stored, from the UK to the Middle East, places such as Tehran, Baghdad, Damascus and Istanbul and find out more
We are still here
We are the oldest blessed by the ancient Gods
Long before others built their empires
We lifted the first stone in Grazan.
Before they knew writing, Emma would make music while dancing with the stars.
We have reached all the hairs of the universe by the light of the stars, before they even made the sky.
Our ancestors lived as kings, emperors and gods
While the ancestors of others in the Middle East were still wandering in the desert.
This land, from the top of Zagroz to the rivers of Botan, from the lake of Wan to Khanaqin.
Not borrowed.
It's not up for debate.
It's ours, written in the bones of our past, sung in the songs of our sleeping,
And it will be carried in the smell of our land.
And yet, we are treated like weird creatures.
We are the only human beings with this kind of glory, however we do not have our place among nations, we are divided and our name is scattered on the world map.
Why is it that?
Because we are dangerous?
Nope nope nope.
Because we are selfless and unbroken.
Even though they tried to bury us,
We have come back each time, stronger and wiser
Schools have banned us as language.
They have removed our names from the law.
They called our children "terrorists" for speaking in their mother tongue.
They have killed the poets,
The artist has been jailed.
They have burned the books,
They try to erase our history and write it for themselves, but reality lives in the blood.
Have they yet to get it?
This world was not meant to give us freedom.
Made for an engagement session.
The borders were not drawn with justice, but with oil, politics and emperor knives.
Our ancestors were betrayed not once, hundreds of times.
Again and again, by those who smiled and called it "peace".
We are not divided because of fate,
We are divided by design.
But now we remember,
We are not a tribe,
We are not few,
We are a civilization buried alive
They tried to put out the fire,
But it lives on.
In every song that is sang in secret,
In the mouth of any mother who teaches her child "I am Kurdish. """""
In every grave that refuses to be forgotten.
We, don't need permission to live,
We don't beg for the rights that are ours.
We don't ask for a place on the zero of the oppressors,
We build our own home, on the bone of betrayal, on the mountains that never bowed.
What do we want?
We don't want anything new,
We only want what has always been rightfully ours
- • A country where no child is ashamed of its name.
• A land where our language will vote in school, law and songs.
• A future where our history will not be erased but to be uplifted.
• A map that Kurdistan is no longer a memory, but a reality.
For the youth:
Do not forget, not with fear, but with the promise of your forefathers.
Not by lyrics, but by actions.
With clarity, courage and holy power.
You were not born to imitate,
You were not born to stay,
You were born to rebuild
.
For those who still have doubts:
They told us we were so small.
But we come from the land where the gods first walked.
They said we were so divided,
But we are one nation, we are the cross and the scatter, not the one.
They said they couldn't get up.
Let us watch how we dance in the darkness of life around the holy fire.
This is not a call for protest. This calls for a comeback.
Go back to your name,
Going back to your own history.
Back to your mountain, your fire, your soul.
Let the world hear it now
We were not made to kneel.
And this time around,
We don't run for permission,
We are up for renovation.
Fire reminds me of,
The earth is still preaching.
Kurds must wake up from slumber. why?
To bring about the return of Kurdistan.
The son of the knowledge
From the protectors of knowledge and sacred memory.
