Blind soldiers praised for their saving power, not that our red temple is that beautiful; we reward the minor and condemn the major,
Like an extinguished fire we have corrupted our minds and dejected our spirits.

Our temple built of bricks and metal roofs from far looks like a bourgeoisies' cemetry, it portrays our quick relief on development, a lace to our ailing society.
Tired soldiers fueled with fake halsen, brainwashed and set to fire and retreat natural currents; indeed they are blind enough!
Our temple painted red from far looks like the gates of jehannam, shepherds praise and call us to gather and make a haste; my fellow believers plead to receive the holy fire before thunder strikes the beauty of our temple.

Mornings, afternoons and nights we plead and pray for our beautiful red temple, breathing the love of our harsh sheepherders, shading dark sweats and crying the desert of tears; why are we still blind like our quondam hallows?