YET, WE GOT TO DWELL ON

Like the tombs in burial ground

In our mind exist, thoughts

Like the smoke of the sparked cigarettes

Spread over, our deeds

At every square inch

Obscene pictures of foul play are drawn

At every step

Silt of meanness is seen

In order to purchase pleasures

Magnanimity and morality are being auctioned

For the sake of success

Values and virtues are being sold

In the gardens of our hearts

The breeze of fine qualities does not blow on…

For a long time, to us

Music of finesse is not at all flowing on…

We the moving corpses, should think to change

We the non-human beings, must change to think

Still, we have to live on…

Yet, we got to dwell on…