Who weep for them, coffined in dust,
waiting for the chanting of our rosary,
a single bead, a peaceful moment.
the breeze passes by their windows,
and the sun shines on their roofs only,
the flying clouds never drop the rain,
and winter brings no chill, no shivering.
who will weep for them who had wept for us?
will they keep sleeping, dumb, deaf and blind
or our tears give them blissful showers?