A lonely ghost loomed out of the unknown mystery,
Bringing a halt to darkness and showing life in misery.
Hamlet was told but there was no reason at all to be cold,
This is a confession that is old, what is gilded cannot be gold.
For what are seen as heroes in the tarnished human history,
They are nothing but condemned on the cess of lofty mastery.
* * *
Hamlet was mad, truth is a man whose head is bald,
Hamlet was sad, illusion is a woman that nods to be sold.
It is respect that generates respect, Humans are in February;
No wonder the proper study of Mankind lies in January.
Being their tamed slaves, what should we do but scold;
So cold is the heat, so dry is the feast, no fire is to hold.
* * *
Birds are crying, freedom is dying, life is in boundary;
Flowers are fading, trees are shambling, O devine mastery.