🌿 Song of the True Roots 🌊
I am not the whisper of shallow lands,
Nor the fleeting shadow of borrowed names.
I am born of the rugged mountains,
Where the Kurdish winds kiss the stone.
I am the daughter of ancient isles,
Where Greek waves dance under the eternal sun.
No Balkan mist clouds my soul,
Only the fire of Zagros and the salt of the Aegean.
Let others lose themselves in dust and noise,
But my heart beats with the pulse of kings and poets:
Of Bactrian dreams, of Cycladic songs,
Of a people who remembered even when the world forgot.
I carry no mask. I carry no shame.
I am Kurdish. I am Greek.
I am the voice of the earth and sea —
Unbent, unbought, and true.