"Mother! Mother!" The voice, hanging in the air, Which blows above this barren land, Trembles, piercing through her heart. But she keeps walking, on her bare feet, Firmly, away from that withering tree, On which bound is her flesh, Her burden and her agony. That savage night she recalls, Drops of red fell from the petals, When the brutal thing charge her through, Fathering the mark of her shame. Now she is killing her shame, Which is innocent but stained. The avenger fights down the mother, In a desperate triumph. "Agrin! Agrin!" The voice, hanging in the air, Which blows above this war-shattered land, Sings a lament that is damned. -- Where words fail, music speaks. --

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