When Man Sits Down in Dust

Manhood stands tall and high, and becomes madness;

The self takes of being and becomes ecstasy.

When iron sated with blood embraces love,

It turns into a bewildered Guitar string.

When time robs man of love and the loved one,

He sees the beloved's glory and his own.

How many sprouts when he sits down in dust!

A destination resting on riches becomes a serpent.

Don't shower Virgins of Paradise over me. Enough!

God, I swear, I'm not concerned with anyone save you;

Where today, I walk oblivious and proud,

God knows, to the garden, who will be the heir.

I am a Man and am not afraid of death;

I am angered at an empty life and a desolate end.

The river of doubt runs deep through my heart,

Wondering when the brilliant waterfall of hope will flow.

My heart gazes at your indifferent eye and so

At times the great string breaks into tears.

Is music lament or rapture--- I cannot decide;

Every time now moves us, now becomes shrill.