The Land of Our Ancestors
It’s gentle,
It’s sweet
It’s leaky
And it’s a taste from the forest
It is honey- pure and clean
The product of our dear forests.
Our mouths used to be wet
Our days were gone unnoticed
This crepuscule sun shone on the horizon
Faded away and the night took charge
As we gathered to hunt the sweetest liquid.
Our lives were dazzling
Our fate lost in awe
Our dear village, curdled in the arms of robbers
And yet, we felt the hurt like death in the morning.
We have lost our land
Our forest has gone to those with cash
We are sold to the stranger
By one of our own
This forest, once benefit us all
Today, only a few with cash can relate.
The solace done in sorrows
The cries only waited for three days
And the talks lasted for just a memory
And here we are again, nothing seems to change
No hope of ever owning our land.
When will this nation rise!
When will the lion roar
When will these mountains hold their fame shoulder-high
And when all fame will ignite the thirst for change
To hold and to protect our land and forests.
Day in, day out
We fight teeth and nail
We conquer, yet we are not recognized
We shine, yet we are covered
And the circle seems never stopping
Because we are now known as enemies of the state
The state that has failed us flat down.
Humanity has done its worst
The villagers are there vulnerable
No land, no forest, nowhere to call home
And their leaders, crown in thievery and elitism
Dine with costly wines why their subjects die of hunger
