the standing tree making shade

under it my sons ate

like palace pet

they never know what sweet comes bitter

but later better

its breeze blown so daze,hang

deligted sons play along

in the tiny sun's film

eventually the sun hurts their palm

suddenly their hearts drop

making demand of their right

they dope

out on angrying height

and fall like might

and drying the fish with their eyes fire

they hulb and hire

they dip into well of hap

with their minds grow hatred

and their cold bodies behave so slight

what their soul of no  kindred

they do no mild

but become wild

as their talks about the path of hard

would they come on the chair of brotherhood

or show in their sense path had?

their versatiled brains blame their childhood

please do not hate my neighbour

do not hate my nation

but hate me

as i am cunning father

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