Born by mothers,
shown by the father,
you come alone onto this world.
No man will help you,
finding you in this rightly,
put alone on you.
The father brings you up,
the mother feeds you,
but one will not you see.
You sit in the corner,
alone and left,
Your life does not have any weight.
So you lead your life,
Day in and day out,
but no-one is there,
this one would drive you out.
"Out from the weekday,"
this one leads you the slow trot,
so you yell to the heavens,
but no-one feels it.
You see your work,
Your works your actions,
the daily ill-humour,
he does not let you rest.
You wonder after everything,
primarily the meaning,
where may this end only?
where does everything lead there?
Everybody this one around you,
says it shall be so,
this is your life,
fit in now.
But you are sure,
everything is that way this,
like God it made,
or is everything dung?
You ask yourself the question,
what am I there for?
But no-one gives answer,
therefore it is clear to you,
Born by mothers,
shown by the father,
The meaning of this thing,
it is clear to you now,
The father, the mother,
they never thought,
they had only fun
according to that I was there.