“Let the Balkans Burn”
Let the mountains crack, let the rivers dry,
Let silence fall beneath a scorched-out sky.
Let tongues of fire dance where flags once flew—
False borders drawn with bones they never knew.
Let marble crumble into choking dust,
Let every oath collapse in broken trust.
Let cities sleep beneath a molten dome,
Their stories lost, their thrones without a home.
Let no foot tread where traitors built their name,
Let roots recoil from soil steeped in shame.
Let ash replace the anthem and the creed—
No soil for arrogance. No stone to bleed.
No Kurd in their right mind mourns your fate,
No erased soul weeps for those who imitate
A history bathed in someone else's pain—
Yet claim it loudly, over and again.
For every stolen myth you crowned in gold,
For every truth you bartered, bought, and sold,
Let winds erase the memory of your breath—
And let the Balkans drink their own death.
Let no song rise. Let no dawn begin.
Let silence reign where you once called it “kin.”
Not from hatred—but from what is owed:
A reckoning to match the fire you sowed.
And may Putin give you the blow you so desperately need—
A fall the world will not let history misread.