Land forsaken after slaughters
Are occupied by wild growth
Vegetating every cranny-
That’s how no man’s lands
Became primeval forests.
Blood for clover fields,
Pearly teeth for lily white,
Flowing locks for gushing streams
Chapped fingers for thorn bush-
When you chop of new-borns’ heads
Don’t forget to sprinkle some salt
Lest the oceans that stem from
Wilderness to – be
Would taste salt-less.
No dead sea can stand it.
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