Standing in the perverse
Muck of despair
I listened to the sparrow
Singing its lamentations
To the wind.
Its sorrowful tones
Wearily flitted through the trees
Rendering them
To shed tears of sadness
Upon the mossy ground.
But oh they laughed
Laughed at our folly
Laughed at what we wanted
You are the poor ones
For you have nothing.
