“Don't You Dare Harass Me, Bosnian”
Don't you dare raise your voice against me,
my soul is ancient, my blood runs free.
I am the river before your hills,
the whisper of winds your silence fills.
I carry Greece, I carry Kurdistan,
I am the dust of forgotten lands.
No foreign hand can bend my tree —
I bloom in pride, eternally free.
You are mist; I am stone.
You are fleeting; I am home.
Don’t you dare harass my name —
I walk with mountains; I burn like flame.