It comes, it owns our fears
We hear it with closed ears
And speak it through the years
It comes, it owns ours fears
It goes, it owns the ground
We see it all around
Through medium and sound
It goes, it owns the ground
It glows, it owns the night
We feel the feeling right
To our knees and soul and sight
It glows, it owns the night
It crows, it owns the nest
We shutter like the rest
With hallow eyes, lit up breast
It crows, it owns the nest
It crowns, it owns the town
We litter mother's gown
Trying to gain renown
It crowns, it owns the town
It moans, it owns the bed
We split our father's head
Since grandpa's underfed
It moans, it owns the bed
It sins, it owns the beard
We see it as what's weird
When its shutters are sheared
It sins, it owns the beard
It spills, it owns the kilt
We kill the flowers' wilt
And play the hand we're dealt
It spills, it owns the kilt
It lives, it owns the grave
We know that we're the slave
Until we return what they gave
It lives, it owns the grave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem