In the cradle of sunsets, where the olive trees sway,
A tale of resilience unfolds, a land called Palestine lay.
Beneath the arc of a timeless sky, whispers of history rise,
A tapestry woven with sorrow, yet hope never denies.
Oh, Palestine, with your ancient hills so grand,
Carved by time’s patient hand, a symbol of the enduring land.
Amidst the echo of azans and church bells chime,
In your sacred soil, history breathes, transcending time.
Upon the mosaic of Gaza, where the waves kiss the shore,
Lies the heartbeat of a people, steadfast, evermore.
In the tapestry of Nablus, with its market’s vibrant hue,
Threads of culture weave stories, both old and anew.
Jerusalem, the city of golden tales,
Where prayers ascend like nightingales.
A mosaic of faiths, a convergence divine,
Yet strife and yearning in every shrine.
Beneath the olive branches, tales of resilience unfold,
Echoes of Nakba, of stories left untold.
Yet, like the jasmine in Ramallah’s gentle breeze,
Hope lingers, dancing among the olive trees.
In Hebron’s streets, where ancient paths align,
Footsteps echo, intertwining destinies entwine.
Through the alleys of Jenin, where courage takes its stand,
A symphony of voices rises, reclaiming the stolen land.
Oh, Bethlehem, with your starlit night so clear,
Cradle of stories that the world holds dear.
In Beit Jala’s vineyards, where tales of peace are sown,
Hopes blossom like flowers, resilience deeply known.
Through the Negev’s vastness, where the desert winds roam,
Bedouin spirits endure, making the arid land their home.
In the shadows of the walls, where separation lies,
Palestinian hearts beat with unwavering ties.
Birthing legends from the dust of ancient ground,
Palestine, in your wounds, strength is found.
In the refugee camps, where dreams persist,
A steadfast spirit, an unyielding fist.
Let the olive branches bear witness to the tale,
Of a resilient people, where echoes prevail.
Oh, Palestine, in your struggle, your spirit stands,
A testament to the courage that defines your sands.
