1. Ask about the past, if the ruins and ponds speak of them,
Which abode of affliction did they dwell in,

2. Or path of ruin did they tread?
They ruled the world, yet death held off

3. Neither their gains nor what they owned.
So fate struck them down,

4. With men, though long they wrought havoc.
They laughed for a while, but sorrow returned

5. And weeping, such was their laughter.
And time's hand stained it with blood,

6. With no blood-price on it.
O brother of fifty, enraptured with it

7. While trapped in his world,
He slept deluded, while fate's ropes

8. Were spreaded out for him as a net,
No! While life is being snatched away

9. By the hands of days, ripped apart,
Stop a little, for you have reached an extent

10. Where death contends, in it is your place of battle.