Two Thousand Seasons

How have we come to be mere mirrors to annihilation?

Whom do we aspire to reflect our people's death?

For whose entertainment shall we sing our agony?

One hopes that the destroyers aspiring to extinguish us

Will suffer conciliatory remorse at the sight of their

own fantastic success

The last imbecile that dreams such dreams is dead

Killed by the saviors of his dreams

How have we come to be mere mirrors to annihilation?