I have seen the way that you treat your kind,
lead piercing your brothers and sisters,
until you water me with ochre.
that you have become polluted with ideals of glory,
when you and your "enemy's" bones will fertilize my roots the same.
for three thousand years I have stood here,
seen generals fall, heroes rise,
and they all rot in the damp soil,
from which I feed.
do the kings and infantrymen not give themselves up,
to vultures and ravens circling above?
you call bloodshed greatness,
but you have sown a gory orchard.