I will not weave the cradle,
I will not bind my hands with rings.
My vow is not to husband or child,
but to the land denied its name.
Let others chase the fleeting comforts,
I will chase a country unborn.
For what is love,
if not the freedom
to stand on soil that is ours?
Kurdistan—
my only marriage,
my only child,
my only forever.
Would you like me to turn this into a short, chant-like version too, something you could shout at a protest?