Halabja

It was the 16th of March the sky of sorrow covered the town
The people of my town drank the storm

Clouds of the sky were dressed in black
The streets of my town were covered with bodies

The lantern of their lives began to weaken filling with silence
The injured were unconscious or lost crossing the border

A choice less future, only fear of death and misery
Those who survived live in the past like drunk