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Encore des larmes aux yeux pour notre brave Haïti Encore des larmes aux yeux pour notre incroyable Pays
We are going to dig to bury our dead: Mother, father, sisters and brothers, Uncles, aunts, friends and strangers.
I have tears in my eyes for Haiti At Christmas But I am not crying At the midnight mass Tears could not stop flowing
Haiti, Haiti, Haiti, das Land der Märtyrer Haiti, Haiti, das Land, das sie versklaven wollen Haiti, Haiti, tapferes Negerland
Ayiti, Ayiti, Ayiti, peyi dè Mati Ayiti, Ayiti, Peyi Gran Esklav Ayiti, Ayiti, Peyi Nèg Brav Yon Oazi ke zòt vle trayi.
Haití, Haití, Haití, la Tierra de los MártiresHaití, Haití, la Tierra de los Primeros Libertadores
Haïti, Haïti, Haïti, la Terre des MartyrsHaïti, Haïti, le Pays des Grands EsclavesHaïti, Haïti, la Terre des Anciens BravesLa Terre que maints truands veulent trahir.
Hell in Haiti, Hell in Hispaniola Hell in Haiti, Hell in Santo Domingo Hell in Bohio, Hell in Quisqueya
Haití (Ayiti, Bohío, Quisqueya) Hace mucho tiempo Es un país secuestrado Antes del parto de las dañinas bayonetas
Haiti (Ayiti, Bohio, Quisqueya, Saint-Domingue) Is a long ago Kidnapped country Before the parturition of the harmful bayonets
Haïti, Un Pays Kidnappé Haïti Est un pays Kidnappé, il y a belle lurette
This is not a recrudescence of racism In America or in the world, but rather A continuum of malfeasance, antagonism And hardcore cruelty of the systemic horror
Haiti By: Abbey Windham They carry on Day after day The smiles on their faces As white as pearls from the roaring oceans Their homes are shambles Pieces of trash nailed together
My heart aches For the land that I barely know, For the people I've barely met, For the language I barely speak (Because I was there for a week).
Never before have I seen such joy, Joy in the midst of sorrow, In the midst of pain, Of poverty,
In the midst of it all: Part 2 In the midst of what I’ve seen over the last few days My mind can’t help but wander your way Anything could happen at anytime
In the midst of it all
I am from the rolling hills From the river filled with pebbles. I am from where the rooster crows From bleating goats to oinking pigs. (Even in the dark of night) I'm from outside my comfort zone.
Born in Idaho in the middle of December, but I was so little that I couldn't remember. To Texas we moved when I was but one, little did I know that it had only begun. I thought that I would stay there the rest of my life.
“Mommy, it’s getting dark!” his voice quivering, clinging to my skirt. No response. My pain was great though, I couldn’t help him. It pained him, that pains me.
Their eyes no longer blank As they had risen from concrete crumbles. In the burning heat of day And in the rituals of the night. Rushing through the strings of dirty tents Trying to find the ceaseless end