Sweet Gaia, Mother of the Earth, abides
In contemplation of the rape she feels
Upon her offspring, turning as it reels
From dying leas and woodlands on all sides.

What kind of child is pitiless; derides
The Mother that would answer his appeals
From birth to death until he breaks the seals
Of honor, laughing as each lie collides.

The children that still keep the faith are strong;
Will carry burdens heavy for the weak,
And know that changing times call for the best.

They never think their Mother can do wrong;
But we are guilty if we never speak
Against the oligarchs who never rest.