Dunsinane

Tragedy is no stranger to my homeland

We are acquainted with it as with an old friend

If your eyes wander over our hills and valleys 

You'll see dark heavy wool covering the curls of our women

As mist doth cover the moors

Here and there purple flowers grow

Only to be stepped on by the paws of many wolves 

My people's eyes are clear like an icy lake 

And when the ice tears tis not only salt wand water

That come pouring out  but iron as well

Here children die young, fighting in other men's wars

And the tongues of their mothers are stiff with sorrow

While...well...

Every once in a while the minds of our men crack and break asunder

Like crumbling mountains

Tis only the songs of the bards moved by a Mighty Power 

that return to these grey faces the passing expressions of forgotten joys

Yet when I look at the reddish hair of my beloved 

Flowing in the wind, darkened and wet

I think to myself that in spite of the harshness of these lands 

There is still some beauty to be plucked

And I wonder what would have happened if lady Macbeth had reasoned her husband.