1. Let us make joy speak, before the crow speaks,
Guidance has no place between us,

2. Our gathering in the sky is safe,
We shed blood when punishment was due,

3. And we left, this old woman,
Whose winds were not youth,

4. It is run by a gilded young man,
With mercy in its midst and torment,

5. I have a thousand doors to his love,
And there is no door for patience from it.