No. What joy is there for this nightingale? Who is far from his wonderful land of hill…
A silent song to fit the unfit times
Ah! I am myself throwing mud in the head
Where shall my soul find its bread?
I cried much for my mentors’ reach
I waited long on Destiny’s beach…
What to fight with no sword?
The cursed devil is selling that fruit for free
His slaves unable to identify that Forbidden Tree
He has chained the slaves of God
In their own lands they are tied…