Get up and dance By Benjamin Alizada Get up and dance on the blue waves in the seas Keep rowing in the river of blood and dance on the ocean Dance on the beaches, on the sabulous in the burning deserts In Afghanistan, in Syria, in old Berlin, get up and dance with the Nazis Dance next to the battle tanks with the sound of bullets, hand to hand with the Taliban in the middle of Dehmazang. Wrap your arms, tighten your legs, kiss your lover's lips, and dance with burning moans Let this be the last visit, recklessly dance with the security officers Sew your lips shut and dance with thirsty on the broken glasses Be a fire on people's lives, in the middle of the Pole-Sorkh1 memory of me Dance in cafes, dance in the squares Get ISIS up and dance with tears to this world Let these vile people cut off your head With a headless body, Dance in the midst of dying Dance until your dance becomes a symbol of freedom Intoxicating you, becoming the thoughts of the sleepless You yourself are a coup and you have thousands of words in your heart Get up, get up with all your words, this time dance with death. 1 Before the fall of Kabul, Pole-Sorkh was a gathering place for cultural figures, writers, poets, artists, stylish and well-dressed couples with modern and crowded cafes. Now the sidewalks were occupied by Taliban fighters with Kalashnikovs in their hands ready to fire, bare feet, soiled and long clothes, uncombed, dirty and long hair, which in the subconscious of Afghans are a true symbol of terror. 5