The suffering that reaches out
From every side oppresses me,
And I have run away and hid
From every painful sight I see.
But then the sounds of grief intrude
Upon my well - hid solitude,
Enfolding me in misery
With every groaning decibel.
I stop my ears -- I cannot hear,
But soon corruption reaches me;
The smell of it begins to bloom
And fill my narrow, silent room.
Where comes this smell of life’s decay
I’ve locked all life outside the door
And hidden here how can it be!
The smell is death; decaying me.