A poem about mankind
The apple is already eaten
By a misdeed of his we came
Ne'er had we in it a hand
of his true home was driven out
but to be again back home and about
ne'er fell words of his enemy on his ears dead
Alas! What he did
to stay in his offspring's path was vowed
of that that is white their white books will be deprived
Was it not vowed?
Their black book weighs than the white of theirs less
For his kind wore of sins made a dress
With it on they shall be
Till before they not be they shall be
Of his kind know of his kind- that with it on stop'd being
They left behind cries
Yet vainly, they shall with it on rise
O my fellow creatures!
You wore the of-sin-made dress
to be by his enemey driven
But he for that he did was forgiven
And he home shall again see
He shall again see heaven
But shall his kind home see?
Shall his kind not out of home be again driven?