Ya Zamen (Life)
O life! You are suppose to heal the wounds. Why is my wound yet uncured? What kind of patience or consolation could ever be able to treat all this suffering? Why did happiness desert my eyes and where has it disappeared? I endured my wounds all by myself. I suffered from cruel injustice yet never complained. I never let go my tears save when you went away. Nothing is left of me after you left me. My soul already had a thousand wounds. And how could I still withstand our separation?
