The House in Balansa
All tattered and battered it stands Its unkempt walls lay prostrate In obeisance to the earthly force. Yet once, it was high and mighty Or so we have been told. With strong encircling walls Filled with strong women and men. The cries of infants and the laughters of children Ever resounded in it. Now it lies broken, bleeding, untended. Where are the happy children? The crying infants? The strong men? The diligent women? They have vanished like smoke, All their pride and dignity forgotten. For nothing scatters a house Like bickering and strife Separating blood from blood And root from stem In vanity, avarice, and envy.