Early evening over a neglected village. And two eyes dreaming. I go back thirty years... and five wars. I see that time holds for me a grain of hope. The singer sings about fire and strangers. And the evening was evening. And the singer was singing. And they interrogate him "Why do you sing?" He replies "Because I sing." They searched within him But found only his heart They searched his heart But found only his people They searched his voice But found only his sadness They searched his sadness But found only his prison They searched his prison But found only themselves in chains And the evening was evening. And the singer was singing. - Mahmoud Darwish