1. There was no good nor generosity on earth,
Superior to one who said the noblest perished,

2. We are merely in a dark and murky sea,
Can ships escape from such as this?

3. Grey hair suits the aged more than youth,
If they are chided, for it springs from the brink of demise,

4. The most spacious homes become a grave for rest,
And the finest garb is what we know the shroud,

5. Those trampled on the earth's face,
Resemble people buried underneath,

6. The laughers, when immersed in idiocy,
And if they aspired to nobility, interred,

7. An end did not alter them,
But I see them, in the long run, perished,

8. No coats of mail rescue their people, polished,
No steeds at their gates aligned,

9. We are night riders, not eternal,
Some of our riders, for them no revival,