No veil too opaque,

no whip too thin,

to punish and wound the Petara within.

 

Whom our feeders fend away, 

while excavating our soul,

ridding our sin,

purifying control.

 

A stone, a river, the debris, the ore,

their sojourn journey on our worldly floor.

Name my mother, name my father, name their lives, name their war,

in soiled books, mildewed editorials, our ancient lore.

 

We sing our songs, our triumphs, our story,

let us lay out its footpath towards purgatory.

Semoga selamat dalam ribut binasa,

bawah naungan metamorfosis selera dunia.