Look at your creation
that is on a higher level.
How its sweet melodies are repressed
by the strings of overmastering fear.
The buds of your orchard
inhale the odour of gunpowder.
Under the shades of swords
your children disintegrate
into the abyss of the culture
of emptiness.
The age preceding Noah
reigns to moil
man's mind to complete
that cycle again.
Give the wisdom of action
to refrain from choking
the songs of peace.
Let the gleams of your glory
ravage the plague of savagery
for the new creature to emerge
from ashes.
Cleanse the air
for the dove to breathe
in our homes
as well as in the universe.
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