What shall I speak of a land?

What shall I speak of a land that was abducted by the hands of the low rapists?
And, how do I describe to you my home that lost every friend?
Even its own people deserted it and sold it in the cheepest prices.
What can I speak of a land that was ripped by the hands of its owners to tiny pieces until I no longer owned a home?
Its flowers withered away and hope had no more existance in its air.
Don't ask me about a land that has become a battle field and a war that doesn't cease. My feeling is a blend of shame, fear and sorrow.
So, don't ask about my home, stranger, for my land is much more famous than to be introduced.
My home has become a fruitless earth after it was a legend long before on the pages of history. But, this legend  still stands immortal in my mind, in my dreams!
Yes, my home remains a paradise.
It remains a sacred land in my dreams.
The question remains, can I make those dreams come true?