Cultures of Resistance Films's video: Osloob - Kouny Sabara Pt 2- ft Saaleek and Abo Gabi English subtitles

Osloob, a Lebanese-born Palestinian rapper, beat-maker, and music producer, is a recipient of one of the Cultures of Resistance Creative Activism Awards. ⭕ His music is a fusion of traditional Arab beats, spoken word poetry, and hip-hop. He is a founder of Palestinian collective Katibeh 5, which was formed at the Burj al-Barajneh refugee camp in the suburbs of Beirut. The collective uses music as a political tool to speak about resistance and occupation. Osloob's song "Welcome to the Camps," for example, criticizes Lebanese policy towards the Palestinian people and calls for freedom and self-determination. ➡️ "Kouny Sabara, Pt. 2” is a track from his most recent album, Dawayer (Circles). The song features Al Saaleek, a rap band from Jerusalem, and the Palestinian-Syrian singer Abo Gabi. 🔹 Kouny Sabara means "be patient" in Arabic. The track tells the story of 3 main characters living under occupation in Palestine, represented by the 3 performers of the song. ⭕ The music video footage comes from two Palestinian films, 'Wedding in Galilée' (1987) and 'Return to Haifa' (1981), and an old Syrian series, 'Al Taghriba Al Filistiniya' (2004) . Osloob "Kouny Sabara, Pt. 2” ft. Saaleek From the album Dawayer (Circles) Produced by Osloob Video editing by Abdalrahman Mansour Courtesy of [Merlin] IDOL Distribution (on behalf of Les couleurs du son) Listen to Dawayer by OSLOOB here https://osloobdawayer.lnk.to/Y3EYj Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/osloob1 🔸🔸🔸 LYRICS Eyes of mine, don’t cry for who was taken by the sailors. They threw him into the boat, as with a fishing net and hook. I keep sighing when thinking of my beloved ones, recalling that they get to remain afar. I miss mother’s calls and prayers every morning. Wondering in the emptiness, my rifle’s hand tapping on my shoulder, instead of my mother’s. Where has he infiltrated from? Who did he kill? Who gave him weapons? Bring him at once to the police station. You call yourselves Soldiers? As the Shaikhs said, you are but a bunch of armed jackasses. Now, bring me here the Mayor! We were stupefied when allowed to build an infrastructure. We had to kiss their shoes to get my son’s medical scholarship authorised. What’s the deal if his father died heartbroken for his lands? When can people get their own rights? My keffiyeh became part of my face. Have a few bullets left, but my AK is not working. Rusty are my days. Crawling from one roof to another, way better than living humiliated. When will they acknowledge that things are no more the same? Resistance brought us nothing but destruction. He will fall. He will be arrested, no matter how long he vanished, even if his house is turned into rubble. Starving, I grab my axe and go working for them. I killed four of them with my own hands. When asked to plough their land, I lost my mind. So my land is theirs now? Arrest his mother and brother ‘til he gives himself up. Impose curfew. Surround all houses. Retract all released permits. Starve them. We will catch him once they hate him. Night has eyes that tore down the first door. Walls have ears that softly hear footsteps whispering, “We are coming!” I pray silently. An old man lights the darkness saying, “Come here. Let me hide you from occupation soldiers and agents of the traitor Mayor.” I am a traitor; I do not care. The sky is falling on their heads. And they will finally pay the price of their good deed... Who’s hiding him? Isn’t he the old man who refused to marry him to his daughter because the guy was a troublemaker? Let him accept what will happen. I swear to make an example of whoever dares the mere thought of laying a finger on a settler or a soldier! I will cut his hand. But again, we failed to crush this little Nimrod! Do you remember his words during the last clash? Death! I am coming to you! Which side of the tank do you want me to strike? Eyes of mine, don’t cry for who was taken by the sailors. They threw him into the boat, as with a fishing net and hook.