A day disaster tis gently gently,
The pain disaster always bind with hunger in my agony,
I have not been jail like this,
I have not be seeing a pain like this,
I could not bring back my passion from a common thought,
From the same source, I have not taken my poor tint of gold bread,
My sorrow I could not tell,
With pain I could not dwell,
Which reminds me of things fall apart,
How would I be silly to fand for the key,
Leaving the poor tint of gold bread,
Only the indiscreet men do such -folly.

Man's timid heart is bursting with doubt woe,
Fear or foolishness might have impel him to concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.,
Mirth obscene diverts his anger--doubt and pity oft perplex,
He who faces death by torture for each life beneath his chest,
May not deal in pity--must not...