Sitting in this desolate room, he rises from the barren land.

Imperious highman, bawling and bellowing, ascends his words

Desiring defeat, highman perverts and lowers with his marching orders

And no, the lowmans do not argue, they plant their seeds

And loudly whisper their unheard voices to noman in the fields.

Imperious highman he is, he issues no curve in the marching route

Lofty lowman, swiftly picking the fair flowers from the seeds, smiles.

Sitting in the new world, highman strokes his vanashing love 

What a dictator highman was!