Oh souls enduring pains of the dead,
your heart suffers injury and pain,
To you all, sages write… Weep no more,
for paradise shall be your console…
To the messengers of tragedy and anarchy,
writers write you all as enemies to charity,
Prophets curse you all to hell-fire…
for there; lay your eternal satire.
Because of your deadly guilt and sins
some souls salivate revenge and war,
As your pain wear you all with no cure
so hot and hurt shall steam your skins
All enemies of the nation will go into exile,
all who kill innocent shall be killed by the spirit;
As soon, peace will sail about our walls,
and fortunes will brand our outfits.
