| We are the people without land
|
| We are the people without tradition
|
| We are the people who do not know how to die peacefully and at ease
|
| We are the thoughts of sorrows
|
| Endings of tomorrows
|
| We are the wisps of rulers
|
| And the jokers of kings
|
| We are the people without right
|
| We are the people who have known only lies and desperation
|
| We are the people without a country, a voice, or a mirror
|
| We are the crystal gaze returned through the density and immensity of a berzerk
|
| nation
|
| We are the victims of the untold manifesto of the lack of depth
|
| Of full and heavy emptiness
|
| We are the people without sorrow
|
| Who have moved beyond national pride and indifference
|
| To a parody of instinct
|
| We are the people who are desperate
|
| Beyond emotion because it defies thought
|
| We are the people who conceive our destruction and carry it out lawfully
|
| We are the insects of someone else’s thought
|
| A casualty of daytime, nighttime, space, and God
|
| Without race, nationality, or religion
|
| We are the people, and the people, the people |