Ab imo pectore, Mon Ami,
Be it from nowhere else.
I shall die not once, Mon Ami;
It shall come in spells.
But still I am alive,
To tell you to go on;
Awake, to fight, to strive,
It must be so see?
Ab imo pectore, Mon Ami.

The dead and the dying,
The pain and the suffering;
The end, the beginning,
The steady, the fluttering,
All are this royal way,
Unto living art they treading;
Some en route, some later on,
Some even, some by morn.

It extends as much beyond,
As some go on and on,
Some flutter away by the dozen.
The one who reaches there,
Says it’s not candid and fair,
For all he got was this,
Another horizon for bliss.

Let us in the mean go,
To see what’s cooking amidst;
Where many have stopped so,
Flashing many a fist.
Aha! There they are now,
Many a battle did brew,
The blood was all boil;
There were chaos, there was turmoil…

Someone asked to pause,
‘Pray, tell me the cause’.
My man, nay you’re clever,
Not to know this fervour,
Was the child of a dollar!

Ab imo pectore, Mon Ami,
And the world was ne’er straight,
People were never wrong,
And there was never spite!
Ab imo pectore, Mon Ami,
Be it from nowhere else,
The last two are wholly wrong,
(or else) I shan’t live to see,
The next sunrise morn.
Ab imo pectore, Mon Ami,
Be it from nowhere else…