The terrible thing she seen,
was the light fading fast from Tyre.
Although her heart felt free,
Aeneas was not yet the comforter of her tears.
Are we but refugees on a sea of His infinite scheme?
Let the next space be immortality.
When Tunisia is free.
And so we run, and so we run,
and so we run,
without ever touching the ground.
On the old Tunisia shore there remains a shining tribute to her love.
The Tunisian Martyrs who defeated murder to recreate awe.
Once more to be free of deceitful Pygmalion scorn.
They took to their streets to rename their city in her awe.
Let the next space be immortality.
When Tunisia is free.
And so we run, and so we run,
and so we run,
without ever touching the ground.
Our lives are such we can't see
their faces any more.
But we can hear their voice,
insist that life may become law.
May Dido (with Aeneas) see
and Carthage and her ruins remain in awe.
Let the next space be immortality.
When Tunisia is free.
And so we run and so we run
and so we run
without ever touching the ground
You can't take our streets.
They're just the space in which we can be.
We won't step aside to allow your unconscious inhumanity.
We can strike a beat to reclaim our spaces to be.
Let the next space be immortality.
When Tunisia is free.
And so we run and so we run
and so we run
without ever touching the ground.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem