直到沙子覆盖的大地。收割地里的稻草弄脏了我们的脚;公路上的灰尘，城市里的烟雾，难闻的呼吸，地窖和厨房里的烟雾，我们所忍受的一切。然后我们逃向大海，让肺里充满空气，抖着翅膀，跺着脚。因陀罗，诸天之主，请聆听我们!听我们的叹息!6地不洁净。邪恶就是生命;人不能被认为是好是坏。尽他们所能，活在当下。 Sons of dust, through dust they journey; Born out of dust, to dust they return. Given they were, for trudging, Feet, not wings for flying. Dusty they grow-- Lies the fault then with them, Or with Thee?