De Mardin

Oh Mardin, the troubled star of Nemrut
The women’s hair turns white with henna even when they’re young
It washes away all sins
Come on, Mardin
The most disadvantaged, the most forgotten, the most unregistered
How many scars are there, how much faith, how many boils still?
Let’s tell the essence, come on
I won’t allow the tears of my eyes
Oh Mardin
I am the voice you silenced
Note that I’m a witness to the blood of those women torn away
That ash of the Phoenix, who has given birth to her soul countless times.