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Look down upon yourself,
What I had made of you,
Look what you made of yourself!!
A monstrous, self-besotted, ‘urban’ forest
with overpopulated cankerous rots
filled with ignorant, empty hearts.

Here I stand,
In the chaffed edge of a cloud’s shadow
And look down in shame
Upon what was become of you,
What was once mine!

No! I know the trick.
It needs to be done.
The dose of fear
That jolts you back to life.

Come, O mighty cloud!
Gather around here,
close, dark and heavy,
blot out the bright sun.
Turn day into night,
bring upon them the veil of darkness,
a veil of fear on insolent hearts!

Hey, O powerful thunder,
strike without mercy.
Illuminate to my eyes
what beauty is left in this lowland.
Show me what remains mine
And slaughter what is not.

And, O swift wind,
Whip up a storm.
Blow the filth out of here,
make this place clean.
Crack their mock fortresses,
bare their indignant hearts
to the truth of this world.

O vast sky, hear!
Pour out your sorrows,
weep your heart out.
Rain heavy upon this heath,
wash off the putrid
and give back the purity I made.

I pity you, O mother earth,
To see what has become of you.
It is time to awake,
open your wide mouth,
satiate your hunger
and sink those overgrown weeds.

And then you indignant beings
shall wake up again,
turn your eyes outward
and respect your creator.

Stop! All of you!!!
Hark! Breaking through this din,
is the wail of a child.
No, you can’t torture it,
It is purity itself, stay away!
And sniff the aroma of the flowers
he has grown with his sweat.
Keep away from there too!

Oh no! What am I doing?
Enough! Now stay back.
What lies here is putrid,
but it is the filth around life
that makes it a marvel.
Those empty hearts are not ignorant,
Naivety it is, ‘cause I made it so.
They are my sons after all...

These tears of love
draining down my cheeks
will not clean the filth,
but they are all I have.
And I, all they do...