Giuseppe Federici Study Center – For a new onset
Press release no. 35/19 of the 24 April 2019, Saint Fedele from Sigmaringa
The Armenian genocide
We remember the anniversary of the Armenian genocide of 1915 with the lyrics of a famous song by Charles Aznavour and with links to our press releases from recent years.
They fell
They fell, without really knowing why
Men, women, and children who only wanted to live
With heavy gestures like drunken men
Mutilated, massacred, eyes open with fear.
They fell calling on their God
At the threshold of their church or at their doorstep
In desert herd, staggering, in cohort
Overwhelmed by thirst, hunger, iron, the fire.
No one raised their voice in a euphoric world
While a people languished in their blood
Europe discovered jazz and its music
The cries of trumpets drowned out the cries of children.
They fell modestly, without noise,
By the thousands, by millions, without the world moving,
Becoming for a moment, tiny red flowers
Covered by a wind of sand and then oblivion.
They fell, eyes full of sunshine,
Like a bird that a bullet shatters in flight
To die anywhere and without leaving a trace,
Ignored, forgotten in their last sleep.
They fell believing, ingenuous,
That their children could continue their childhood,
That one day they would tread lands of hope
In open countries of men with outstretched hands.
I am from this people who sleep without burial
Who chooses to die without abdicating their faith,
Who has never lowered his head under insult,
Who survives despite everything and who doesn't complain.
They fell to enter the night
Eternal of time, at the end of their courage
Death struck them without asking their age
Since they were at fault for being children of Armenia.
They fell
They fell, without really knowing why
Men, women and children who just wanted to live
with heavy gestures like drunken men
mutilated, massacred, with eyes wide open with fear.
They fell calling upon God
on the threshold of the Church or their door
to desert flocks, hesitating, in cohorts
exhausted by thirst, the fame, the iron, the fire.
No one gets up’ the voice in a euphoric world
while a people stagnated in their own blood
Europe discovered jazz with its music
the wails of the trumpets drowned out the cries of the children.
They fell prudish, without noise,
by the thousands, then millini, without anyone moving,
becoming for an instant, tiny red flowers
covered by a wind of sand and oblivion.
They fell, with eyes full of sunshine,
like a bird that a bullet pierces in flight
to die anywhere and without leaving any trace
ignored, forgotten in their last sleep.
They fell by believing naively
that their children's childhood could continue,
who one day would tread lands of hope
in open countries of men with outstretched hands.
I am one of this people who sleep without burial
who chooses to die without renouncing his faith,
who never lowered his head under the insult,
who survives despite everything and doesn't complain.
They fell to enter the night
follow those tempi, to the extremes of their courage
death struck them without asking their age
for they were guilty of being sons of Armenia.
Israeli denialism
The “Young Turks”, freemasonry, the Armenians. The reasons for hatred
Armenian Genocide: a detail of the story?
Armenian Genocide and Zionism
When the deniers are the Israelis
SOURCE – http://www.centrostudifederici.org/il-genocidio-armeno/
