Through boughs and leaves and stone on ground.
I feel a presence of evil, a silent sound.
An evil place once lovely and fair.
ItÃ¯s gardens are grey, sad voices of despair.
A village old, pillaged and raped.
All itÃ¯s houses are rotten or burnt.
Here are signs of battles of old.
Raided for the virgins and their gold.
From where cometh this evil air?
The pressing warning of danger.