Barren this time
It pierces our sides with its rusty needle
And revels in pain

Do not yield to gasps of salvation
Life is constant
But the water is turbid
 Flooding the lungs

Sad like an empty city
Except for the whistle of the wind
And the cruel slaps of cold

Entangled in curses
Therefore the night argues
And fans with the horseshoe of faith
Fearing death and oblivion

Scream in vain
Like the sound of a tree falling in an empty forest

Do not undress before you learn to weave a garment 

The country is a weak point
In a separate conscience
Built on hunger
And death bleeding..

The country is a child's hope
That has not reached life
A small carrot in a rotten seller's box

The country is streets without sidewalks
Mouths without breath
The country... hunger and hunger

Cold digging its claws
Into hands begging for bread
And faces torn by shame!

The country is a knife
We are forced to swallow it
To wound us