In the whispers of the twilight, shadows long and deep,
Lay the echoes of a sorrow, memories we keep.
Hungry eyes and weary hearts, in streets so cold and bare,
Dreams once vibrant, now are dust, lost in the air.

Lines of souls in tattered clothes, waiting for a chance,
To feed their children, just one meal, a desperate dance.
Fields once green now barren lands, factories stand still,
The silent cries of broken men, echoes on the hill.

Hope is but a fragile bird, wings clipped by despair,
Yet in each heart a flicker lives, a silent, fervent prayer.
That from the ashes of the past, new strength will arise,
And once again the sun will shine, in these tear-stained skies.

Through the darkest nights endured, and days of endless gray,
A spirit strong, unbroken still, amid the disarray.
For every dawn that breaks anew, brings whispers of the light,
That even in the deepest gloom, we’ll rise and face the fight.