A scribble to the last letter
For the man on the hill,
Touching the heavens and the earth
Crowned by the morning sun

I moan, oh! old one!
For my acquaintances with folly,
That now am tatters of shame
Blown at by the winds of laughter

Oh! these streets of many faces!
In this big court room am bound,
On a stand, by mockery
In the jaws of human cruelty

One side step many times
Off the rails of discreetness
A youthful adventure I thought,
Swayed by the inborn naivety

And so, I write,
My weary too heavy
That I seek the counsel of stars
To guide me out of my piteousness

To the man on the hill