All what is left is a wish to be alone,
to seek the hidden truth in the unknown,
to think about mysteries of cosmic space.
But it is hard to find a lonely place.
The crowd is around me.
I'm in the middle.
I'm squeezed, I'm pushed and needled.
I want to be alone, but I couldn't.
Until in a coffin I'll be woodened.
Death persistently stays at our side,
ready to dagger you and me.
It's useless ask sympathy.
So to God I cry:
"Death kills us! Let it be!
But save our Love and Liberty!"