Thinking of time when dying was a myth
So was I a happy soul
The day the shroud made it to Valley
It grew numb and dark
Valley of spring was never the same
So was its beauty talked about
As we saw it coming, yet fell dead
Mourning over blood
spilt
Bawling for the lifeless
This was the fate that struck as catastrophe
Cadavers buried and burnt to ashes
The soul was still undestroyed
O! the God of Persian phantoms where is your power to ruin
If you think you ruined our lives yet our souls are unscathed
Rising from the
ground below is inevitable
Sure till your phantoms fade
So shall you be unaided and all the more disconcerted
Life as it was a martyrdom so is the grave I dwell in
No comments:
Post a Comment