All paths are fraught with trials
Wherever we go, strife erupts
Killing has become our obsession today
Works and professions find pleasure in it
How many graves have become cities
When the cities expelled their inhabitants
Our morals, our thoughts, have withered
Like one enveloped by decay
Behold, a father whose tears are anger
He walks, and the shroud walks behind him
Even the mother's milk is depressed
Our hatred has surpassed the milk
Oh, how I wish my time would end
So, I could see what time leaves behind
**
