Mother, you are in a soldier’s cry
And also in a baby’s longing for his mother
If you dance your death-dance
Then, can you remain silent
On a throbbing breast of a mother with a child in her arms?

How long will you make us go round?

Cycle seems endless
Torture is painless
It has to be lovable

Come and pick me up in your arms
Sweet darkness, let it envelope me

Then only is there peace