Where nobody is there to watch our mistake,
Put off, wash it, a new dressing we cannot make,
Recurrence of an ancient sin the sky intends,
How many miles more we shall be friends?
Above I see waiting for the death of humans,
Black metallic eagles to excrete the weapons,
Below I see so called leaders, worst demons,
Carelessly we are watching as the third persons,
Love is a real dream and it is never fake,
How many miles more to arrive at a lake?
A lasting Relationship of the common pains,
Look, our torn dresses have the same stains,
Red blood dried into black pinching remains,
A centuries-old uncalled enmity still sustains!
We both need the same old lovely blessings,
How many miles more for washing dressings?
Put off, wash it, the sun is there it will dry,
Dirty dressings are disliked by the neat sky,
Let the clouds rise, trees dance, and birds fly,
And what of beasts, let them roar and cry,
A question is asked by a peace loving dove
How many miles more for the sin of love?