Where all and nothing have a self-centered sense

Marginalization of the risks and the fears

I sing this sad and broken song

A song for the rivers of blood

A song for the unknown dead

A song for the missing bodies

A song for your tears

My tears and those that I did not cry

The silence

What a loud silence amidst the rubble

What a smell coming from the fires

Blood on the pavement

Papers floating in the street

And from the charred remains of life

An epitaph for September has come

Will you remember today?

Many years from now

Will you still cry or will the river of your tears would be dried

When you breathe in the fresh air of September

And feel the soft cold breeze of spring

Will the flowers remind you of the broken parts?

The hunting of the almighty echoes of Jericho

The crucifixion of the thousand ones

Yes I remember today and I sing this sad broken song

For the dead of 11th September

1973