Gentle winds quickly become breezes,
Sends ears of corn fleetingly.
Sneaks over sad fields,
Makes black angels watch.
The master behind the harvest of death
Lays the land slowly desolation.
Grain spreads evil, disease, damage
Autumn sacrifices fall in long rows.
The earth rots, life withers,
Plague tears down all gates.
Feed and people are being carried away.
The master has won all cards.

INVIA LE CORREZIONI