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SEASON WITHOUT REMORSE
I witnessed as you strongly shut lips
Making the gardens wither
Dust penetrating into every nook and corner
Flowers turning pale, fertile soil getting hard
Neither merry note nor cause for celebration
Was programmed for your season
For all hid under their blanket, sheltered
Everything wet dries and becomes barren
Hot food turns cold and sour
Everything congeals like clotted blood
Dead and bored all day
People dying, people born
Even in the harsh hamarttan's weather
Perhaps, you favored us a bit
Good-bye, good-bye
As many souls are cheering
