A Tulawin

I am, the prisoner of the family you hunt
I am the body, devastated by their rapes
I am the life, chased by their hatred
I am the soul, tortured by their horrors

They cut the olive tree and the fig tree
My land is still crying
It's not yet lost, it won't be lost
My country is calling me

Even if it's hot sand or
crunchy snow, it's my land
You're still standing, you never fell
Dry your tears, it's almost over

I am the heart, stopped by their barbarity
But I am the courage of battles found
My wound is gaping
I hurt for my beheaded children
For Louness, for Tahar, for Aloula murdered

Oh homeland, oh my love
Wake up, oh Amazigh woman
Oh homeland, the dawn is near
The sun will rise, the darkness will fade

Sweet women, eternal women
Courageous, free!
Sun-women, light-women
It's almost over

I hurt for my sister defiled, by her innocent rapists
These false devotees, her instructing imams
Preachers of a hate from hell
Blind to life, they don't know that suffering is not praying
That enduring is not surrendering... SURRENDER!

Land of the free men
Cradle of the Imazighen
You're neither for sale
Nor for rent!