Where art thou, my country’s bride?
Have you gone deep into slumber?
In your shame you do now hide?
hast lost their glorious past.
For none shall burn nor remember
In the season of your last.
the beauty of your past
but now ‘tis a bleak December
in the season of your last.
Look! Your children gone astray
To the valley of the fallen
Your seas swelled with much debris
This infamy not be forgotten
In the annals of history.