We are the children of the winter of seventy three.
The first time you dreamed of us
Was at dawn, when the battle was over.
You, the bone-weary men,
Grateful for having survived.
You, the anxious young women,
So eager for love and for life.
And so you conceived us with love
In the winter of seventy-three,
To replenish with your bodies
What war had taken away.

We were born into a country
That was wounded and sorrowful.
You gazed at us, held us close,
Seeking consolation.
When we were born, the old men
Gave blessing with tearful eyes.
They said - "Please God,These children won't go to war."
Your faces in the old photograph
Prove that you meant it sincerely
When you promised to do your utmost for us
To transform enemies into friends.

You promised a dove and an olive branch,
You promised us peace at home.
You promised us spring and blossoming
You promised to keep promises!
You promised a dove.

We are the children
Of the winter of seventy-three.
Now we too have grown up to be soldiers
With rifles and helmeted heads.
We too know how to make love,
To laugh and to cry.We too are men,
We too are women,We too dream of babies.
So we will not urge you -
So we will not demand -
And we will not utter threats.
When we were little,
You told us - promises must be kept!
If you need our strength,
We will give us unstintingly.
We just wanted to whisper:
We are the children
Of that winter the winter of seventy-three.

You promised a dove ....