Deep in my soul, I know that someday
I'll see a kid of another woman,
Carrying the eyes that I fell in love with
To whom I wrote a serenade under Riga's gloomy sky

Ya amar,
Whose name I'd never mention here.
You erased the borders on my palms
And planted olive trees in my heart
Your eyes which glimmer with pride over your roots,
But tore mine in pieces.
This hazel gaze never belonged to me,
It lingers at the soft smile of Justine...
Who you may call a friend, but by G-d, she's way more to you than you'd admit
Raised in Jerusalem, hayati
Ibn Al quds, that's what I call thee.
Palestinian blood and zionist pride, and all in between
Sharper, than the dagger stained with my blood..

We'll raise the kids with brown curls and olive skin,
I'd rather them have your nose,
Built as a tower of Lebanon, looking towards Damascus
Perhaps my eyes, the ones that soften at the mention of your name
Ya amar, under the chuppah, you foretold our future like a blessing
And I whispered amen
Sacrificing everything I've had
For us.

You know, when I first saw you,
Your dark eyes locked on mine, like the gates of Damascus
One smile is all it takes, and in my soul, I know you're the one.
The answer to all my prayers
Hashem listened, and you're the witness
The testimony to Zion,
I knew who you were,
You haven't opened your mouth yet.
For me, this felt like something sacred
The moment that existed only between us
For a second, I've felt that maybe you see it, too
That maybe you cared enough to greet or look?
Torn between two nations,
With hot blood and a cold mind
You won my heart before all the wars
Killing me softly, without M16 or intifadas
Fighting for my freedom,
Fight for the freedom of my soul that you've captured,
But I didn't protest.
Your curls are a testament to my faith,
Inshallah, I'll clip a kippah to them one day
And see the soft smile at the corner of your lips...

To the one who made me see the beauty of your people