The streets are drowning under tanks that grind,
The guns fall silent, rusting from inside,
The jailer chokes within the cell he sealed,
Yet Fridays rise, the mosques refuse to hide,
And still she stands—Yaman unsealed.
Tag: kadri
The streets are drowning under tanks that grind,
The guns fall silent, rusting from inside,
The jailer chokes within the cell he sealed,
Yet Fridays rise, the mosques refuse to hide,
And still she stands—Yaman unsealed.
Roumani Line 