Twelve moons of the twentieth order
Ignite a long awaited transition
Which allows a thickened slender
Of the existence of a compound creation.

Awarded by time, one of your selves
Has held the joy of recalling liberation
From the prison everyone deserves
For the grand initiation.

The significance is obscured in your smile
That has abandoned your wrinkling face,
Due to a foolish old juvenile,
Seeking silver in gold’s place.

Your meadow is flooded and filled with mire
Your wise fool has poisoned your feast
And a despairing sorrow is all he can perspire.
Nevertheless, cherish this day Sthandwa sami.