I weep when hollow victory songs are sung,

I weep the passing of all squandered days,

I weep for worthy projects left undone,

I weep for every word of hollow praise.

I mourn the love betrayed by dark deceit,

I mourn for friends lost to death’s endless night,

I mourn the march of seasons passing sweet,

I mourn the lack of wisdom in our sight.

What matters most is that the soul stay true—

No idle hand will know fair triumphs wrought;

False tongues will ever righteousness undo,

Success is not a conquest to be bought;

True honor lies in struggle and in pain—

While fortune’s gifts are empty, void and vain.