When tears will shed from my eyes,
Then the world will visualise what pain is.
When my earnings, my striving, shall fetch the arms of good-will,
Then the universe shall realise what work is.
When my hands shall stop writing on scripts of dried rain anymore,
Then the world shall understand what goal is.
When my legs shall be tired of performing anymore,
Then the universe shall realise what passion is.
When my mouth shall cease to recite anymore,
Then the world shall realise what voice is.
What is it that stops this tired soul to cease living?
What is it that makes this body feel weary after none of the action?
What is that may stop this death from dying?
My arms shall wear out,
My legs dipped in blood,
My voice shall not be audible anymore,
My tears transparent as never,
My earnings negatively valueless,
What about this mind which can never measure its depth?
I am aware what thoughts shall emerge when this love shall die with this hatred.