As agony baths heaven
the laughter is lingering on winds disdain.
The fiddler emanates in the moons glow of the rapture.
Seeking forgiveness for a crime perpetrated by early generations.
There is disdain in a logic, a quick sand sort.
We are merely humans seeking guidance in the word.
But are we guided by the divine hand or those of mad men?
Many whom have to lead for know other pure reason than the
downfall of our race.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem