I cried in my heart
For eyes look
Abandonment behind fertility
Lament the bare ground, the road that is bored
Hidden bushes pierced
There was a buffalo hoof, a foul odor
Where people were
Man died before death
Disobedient in addition to embracing ignorance
Lazy due to weakened traditional disease
Drowning in the bustle of feeding
All efforts run aground, before cultivated
I walked awkwardly, in a rage
After the effort is driven by narrow-mindedness
Slowly climb the climb on the ridge
Breathless, croaked voice.
All roads are slow
Like a bouncy dancer twisting his body
Busy just in throwing cindai and shaking head
Such is the story of barren land in fertile soil.