It's difficult to live, my brother,
among such thick-skulled blunderheads;
the fires of my youth are smothered,
my heart is torn to bitter shreds.
I love the land where I was born
and I protect its ancient wealth,
yet when I show these oafs my scorn
I bring destruction to myself.
Dreams of darkness, thoughts of storm,
have nailed my young soul to the cross.
O, who will place a friendly hand