Next year in Al-Quds

Though we ourselves lack food,

we treat our guests as all men should,

sprinkle crimson petals at their feet,

singing

next year in Al-Quds.

We raise our young

to distinguish evil from good,

that all the stars are ours,

singing

next year in Al-Quds.

Reliving

lost childhoods,

grey men laughing,

singing

next year in Al-Quds.

Dancing

where winding walls once stood,

young men rising,

singing

next year in Al-Quds.

Fleeing

hawk dark woods,

doves winging,

singing

next year in Al-Quds.