What fun is life, if it doesn't end,
A virus with no ways for a mend,
Time for sorrows to blend,
A moment for the universe, less for man to lend!

Bergamo is a ghost town,
Wuhan the reason to frown,
A little virus painted us gray, maybe brown,
And it hits the lungs, and also wears a crown

So much for the markets and the stocks,
Many people go home with the box,
Most of the stores are locked,
Deserted streets, airports and the docks

Never known an enemy as this,
It kills silently, not even a snake's hiss,
A cough, a cold and soon life is amiss,
It will not spare you, even if you are a prince

New York is next in line,
A pandemic, worse than fever of the swine,
Wash your hands, and try not to whine,
Put on a mask, the air is not too fine

Is it the time for twilight?
The end of our might?
The world hangs by a thread too tight,
Save our souls, quite