Barely born, already smoldering in the inferno of the evening,

all oceans are red, all oceans

of ichor, all lochs, and water is scarce;

no water to lavate guilt away,

for this human to expunge their heart,

no water - to extinguish

thirst for a silent, green morning flora.


And everything is a sunset and there will be no first light,

until we all die, who carry

the guilt of their deaths,

to the last one...


Oh, into this scenery, this scenery green

young green scenery, even in this,

evening sun, you will shine

with blazing rays? This one as well?