Lament to the Traitors and the Scattered Blue-Eyed People
O silent wind, carry my cry,
to those who shattered my soul with smiling faces,
to those who betrayed and still feast upon my ruins.
You who once touched the earth with false steps,
you who wore the robes of brotherhood,
but built your kingdoms on the broken bones of loyalty.
Still you poison my life,
still you twist the threads of my fate,
whispering lies into every corner of my being.
And among the ruins, I remember the blue-eyed wanderers,
children of a forgotten dawn —
born by the Black Sea’s ancient light,
scattered like seeds by winds of conquest and sorrow.
They too were torn from their homelands,
dragged into wars not their own,
sinking into sands and stones far from their mothers' rivers,
carrying only the cold fire of their gaze as memory.
You traitors, you tore roots from the earth;
you made exiles of the pure and the proud,
the ones whose eyes once mirrored the clear sky itself.
I do not mourn you.
I mourn the songs that were never sung,
the gardens that never bloomed,
the futures stolen from the innocent and the bold.
May the earth bear witness to your betrayal,
when your names are nothing but dust.
May the rivers weep for the blue-eyed children you displaced,
and for the dreams you drowned.
You will be forgotten.
But the blood, the light, and the memory of the broken —
they will endure beyond you.