Translated from Assyrian
by William Warda

Ya Nishra D Tkhumee 

O' Eagle of Tkhumee ruler of the sky
Spread out your wings to Tyarri fly

From Urmi to Mosul and both of Barvarri
Let's honor Assyria our ancient nation

Then land in Mosul offer our prayer
For our people and their salvation

O! mighty traveler come fly away
Glide forth don't waiver nor delay

Let's honor our martyrs
who sacrificed their life on Ashour's altar

Respect their ways and deed
Swear allegiance to their creed

When we reach our final destination
O! eagle of Assyria and the greater Zab

Drop me on the cliffs, merciless rocks
To Atour my nation sacrifice my life

On shores of Zab old as Ashur, let me fall
Bury me as one who sacrificed all

When Eagels Don't Fly

by Givargis Aghasi
translated from Assyrian
By william warda

Pity the ankles that are used to chains
And wrists accustomed to handcuffs pain

pity the fish removed from the river
Living in glass bowl with no disdain

Let's break our yoke, shatter our chain
Live with dignity, our freedom attain

Pity those with cross around their neck
Who fail to live by what christ says

Pity those who disdain our people
But pretend to be their leader

Listen to the echoes as people pray
None's grater than nation, they say

Eagles that are content to live in cage
Have forgotten the ways to fly

To flap their wings and soar in sky
Wings are wasted when birds don't try

Let's break our yoke, shatter our chain
Live with dignity, our freedom attain

Givargis Aghasi
Written during the ten years war between Iran and Iraq
translated from the Assyrian
By William Warda

The winter breeze started to blow
Again the days grew shorter

The school bell that day were tolled
But the young boys did not show

Classes are all but empty
The blackboards are void of text

Young boys instead of pens
Hold weapons in their arms

Their hands are stained not by ink
But are soaked in red with blood

Their shoulders not bent by books
But are burdened by the guns

On the first day of the school
They raised the flag on the pole

But on that early morning
The anthem they did not sing

The classes began once more
But the young boys did not come

Instead of A, B, C and D
They learned lessons of martyrdom

The blackboards are void of writing
The pens are empty of ink

The classes are all deserted
During the day as on fridays

It did not take long for the boys
To stumble and fail their test

A red zero they earned as score
On the innocent board of their chest

The dreadful years of the eighties
People homeless in the streets

Young boys walked to war on foot
But were brought back held in arms