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Ñëîâà ïåñíè «Êàíà»:

 QANA

There´s no one

in the village

not a human

nor a stone

there´s no one

in the village

children are gone

and a mother rocks

herself to sleep

let it come down

let her weep

the dead lay in strange shapes

Some stay buried

others crawl free

baby didn´t make it

screaming debris

and a mother rocks

herself to sleep

let it come down

let her weep

the dead lay in strange shapes

Limp little dolls

caked in mud

small, small hands

found in the road

their talking about

war aims

what a phrase

bombs that fall

American made

the new Middle East

the Rice woman squeaks

the dead lay in strange shapes

little bodies

little bodies

tied head and feet

wrapped in plastic

laid out in the street

the new Middle East

the Rice woman squeaks

the dead lay in strange shapes

Water to wine

wine to blood

ahh Qana

the miracle

is love

Patti Smith