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Under the sky where stars entwine with the shadows of lost days, when sanctity becomes an echo fading slowly,
we bear the burden of time like a heavy cloak of lead, while madmen escape from the prisons of their own minds,
entering social fields like wild storms, their shadows darkening the sky with whispers that God has been forgotten.
Perched on thrones of absurdity, these madmen build kingdoms from shifting sands,
declaring wars from fleeting whims, while our souls dwindle poor and humble,
puppets of jesters who laugh at our suffering as if it were a spectacle of endless shadows.
Thus, we are at the mercy of fools, great fools dancing on the ruins of reason and wisdom,
for their fires consume beliefs and hearts, turning them into relics of a bygone and forgotten past,
and zoology becomes the new sacred script, with geniuses captive in cages, viewed as clowns by those who cannot see.
Values fade under a starless sky, the immortals no longer find their place to be reborn in this world,
only money sings the tune of the times, inviting us to a grotesque and deceptive carnival,
where monkeys without ideals wear only snout masks, instead of unfulfilled dreams and desires.
We are in the hands of madmen, led by great madmen who raise walls between nations and peoples,
turning democracy into a cold void, a balance breaking under the weight of the coming malady,
casting peoples into endless chaos, for they say we are too many on this flourishing, living earth.
And yet, the human race, despite those who hunt it from shadow and darkness, will find the way to lift the lands to the sky,
from stone will bring forth grain, and the shining vision will be reborn from the blind eyes of the eternal Homer,
for we are in the hands of madmen, but in our hearts still burns the fire of hope and the undefeated and pure dream.
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