I recount the days of old,
When the streets were filled with laughter,
When the hours were yours and yours alone,
To do as you please, to wander.
The lush gardens were filled with roses,
The bees buzzed,
The butterflies had time to break free from their cocoons,
and turn into beauties that filled nature's paradise.
The Mountain Dew turned into honey
and filled the land with much manna,
so the children could be fed,
and grow in numbers.
The time was yours and yours alone.
Then the ways of the world turned away from innocence,
And the proud gathered dusts of gold,
Forgetting that nothing was as precious,
As the peace they let slip unknowing,
That golden peace, once inherited by their children,
once upon a time,
torn away, now
beggars rummaging for food,
dishevelled and dirtied,
The children's cries are louder than the bombings,
O, what sadness has befallen the world?
Now, there is much heartbreak, the children are besieged in fear,
They are fed no more,
The mountains are filled with terror,
The roars of the wild beasts are heard instead.
There is much fighting and the stark rays of doom
now fill the gardens, The bees and butterflies have disappeared,
The children breathe the dust of war as they grow,
to remember their lost right to peace.
No more is laughter found, not even in the creaks behind closed doors,
no more does the land belong - to you,
A stranger walks the streets, as if, it was his and his alone.
It is an arduous task I see,
To revive your land and make it yours once more.
Have you lost what was once yours?
It is indeed easy to lose your heritage,
to a world that glitters in gold.
That Golden Peace that you have forsaken,
Will remain in the past, history - a longing for peace
in the shadows.
-shobana-
