Our throat is dry,
yet our face is wet.

We silently cry,
For we don't know when will this end.

We were just fighting in a shore,
when we were seen.

Now we are kneeling down in a floor,
until our knees swarm the beans.

At first we were pointing at each other,
For who'll get punished.

Yet we were hit by our mother,
that even look famish.

A word that scolds us,
that we've never understood.

And frightening actions,
That we never think they'll do.

Yet we regret what we did,
and make ourselves fend.

We will make this as a promise,
so let this punishment ends.