Blood scattered among the leaves
Crisp wind carries the scent of death
And grief hangs in the air, like the fading of daylight
Thousands of bodies, clusters of barren trees
No more warmth survives, people without a voice
And the destruction of this world, a preamble to the winter
Will be engraved into those stone squares, cobble streets, hillsides, and darkened forests
History will know of those September days
Lives lost cannot remain
Nothing but the soiled image
Of gowns and ascots drenched in sorrow
Stay stuck in the pages of humanities eternal story