Yes my sweetheart, these few and little things is what we fight for.
To be able to have a door, a star, a tabouret, a happy way in the morning, a peaceful dream in the night.
To have a love that they won’t soil, a song that we can sing.
But they break our doors, they step on our love.
Before we sing our song, they kill us.
They are afraid of us and they kill us.
They are afraid of the sky we face, they are afraid of the mantelpiece we touch, they are afraid of our mothers spindle and of the primer of our child, they are afraid of your hands which know how to embrace so tender and to toil like men.
They are afraid of the words we both say with silent voice, they are afraid of the words that we will say all together tomorrow.
They fear us, my sweetheart, and when they kill us they are more afraid of us.
Tasos Livaditis
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