In Saffron-colored Mantle From The

The Generation Of Mankind Is Like The Generation Of Leaves. The Wind Scatters The Leaves On The Ground, But The Living Tree Burgeons With Leaves Again In The Spring.

For Fate Has Wove The Thread Of Life With Pain, And Twins Ev'n From The Birth Are Misery And Man!

To Speak His Thoughts Is Every Freeman's Right, In Peace And War, In Council And In Fight.

A Glorious Death Is His, Who For His Country Falls.

Oh, My Tattered Rags Are Caught On Your Coffee Table.