Beat back the drums of daylight
And send your cries as unrest to her bosom
Mother’s chin hangs down
And from her breathless nose
Trickles what is worth more than the tears of a phoenix.
They had her thoughts in a black cauldron
And tortured her mind with a man and a wife
They had given no pity to an unborn child
So now dusk will fight this sun
For noon I forbid be seen
Let the flute play sorrowfully on…
Into the mist
As mother rots with her little one
For this carnage will claim two more!