Did you hear us, God when we prayed for your mercy
When they butchered us and buried us alive?
They called us separatists when all we did
Was saving our loved ones from brutal death.

When our evil murderers were glorified as heroes,
When our homes were leveled to the ground
You turned your back at us, Almighty, that’s the truth.
Perhaps, dear God, you’d really like to know

A mother’s feeling in Ossetia distant
Who’s sons now lie beheaded in the ground?
And do you think her heart is bleeding any less
Than that of one who’s son was crucified?

In hundred years three times exterminated
We begged the World for help, but World was deaf
To our desperate pleas: Ossetian Holocaust
Ignored by all – one holocaust too many!

Chosen people we are not, so, by all means,
Come all and burn alive us all in our homes!
Who’d cry a tear over tiny nation you need
A magnifying glass to make out on a map?

And what of our butchers? Hypocrites
Will cry false tears for their fake abuse,
While those who come to help
Will be condemned to Hell.

You hear us, God, when we kneel by the altar
And beg thou for thy help, we trust you,
Thank you for our daily bread, for daylight and for life.
Remember  us,  God, we are  people, who suffered!!!

Liana Margiva

Translated from Russian by Anatol V Kardiukov