In the desecrated chamber
of the rock of Aso did they gather
sharing the spoils from the battle
that swallowed many bloods.
The custodian of the spring balance
of justice sat with his hands dripping
blood as he inserted them in the bowl
where tears are the oil in the soup.
Meats prevented meats from being
picked by the twister of fate as well
as the emissaries of war. Our bellies
hungered for what they sit to devour.
Our eyes kept hovering on the other
side awaiting the arrival of any thrown
crumbs. None came till the dusk set in
Fed are those who stole our meal!
Bard Tosin Morakinyo