Beneath the rain, where dreams are torn,
Palestine’s heart beats, weary and worn.

Through fields of pain, where shadows creep,
The children of hope still dare to sleep.

The olive tree whispers, steadfast and strong,
Its roots hold stories of ages long.

The land endures each tear and cry,
Under the watch of a darkened sky.

The echoes of laughter, though faint and low,
Remind the world of the seeds they sow.

Through rubble and ruin, they walk with grace,
A steadfast hope no force can erase.

The moon bears witness, the stars align,
Guiding the prayers of Palestine.

For every tear that wets the sand,
A promise blooms to reclaim the land.

Oh Palestine, your soul won’t yield,
Through every battle, your fate is sealed.

Your children will rise, your voice will soar,
Peace will return to your sacred shore.

Though storms may batter, and nights grow long,
Your heart beats steady, your spirit strong.

Shelters collapse, but spirits don’t fade,
Freedom’s resolve in every soul laid.

The olive tree stands, though battered and bruised,
A symbol of strength no war can abuse.

In shadows of walls, they build their song,
For justice and peace to right the wrong.

Oh Palestine, your story will rise,
Written in stars and boundless skies.