the song of asking when will you be home? An everyday question asked so easily yet behind what’s obvious lie just too many assumptions to mention what does ‘home’ even mean to us is it a house, a yard, a town, a county? another, a love, a mother’s hand? is it a language, belief or just a story? for king and country, earth’s greatest? our homeland? they say ‘home is where the heart is...’ the place you drive to for Christmas but what if it’s a wish to live, somewhere that is safe and warless? so many people have left their home fleeing from poverty and violence we have room, but just to let you know you’re welcome ‘til you become a nuisance for our own wealth we have looted and burned our rubbish sent to wherever we could and our human rights have to be earned something they likely haven’t understood we ourselves are often questioned but we doubt another’s habits more how much hope have we thus dampened when someone knocked on our closed door when someone knocked – on my own door where is my home? after withdrawing from what bore that name so naturally since then, I’m searching, sometimes not knowing if a border, a door is opened for me hoping my soul will see – and open up to thee © Bennie Huisman Translation: Trevor Scarse
You can listen to the original Frisian song here.