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The drunkard calls: I am big and you are small. The sober one answers: You are dirty and I am pure. The wise calls: Let the sun shine on us both, on all of us. Look, clever or stupid, good or bad, in the forthcoming oppression, all of us will suffer one-and-the-same pain.

Listen therefore to the sound of the Big Trump now. He warns: White, black or brown, to the one-world-order, the entire world-population is just scum. I hear a voice calling: Evacuate-evacuate. The scales threaten and heaven is in a bad mood. The sea roars wildly, while the waves froth. The rivers overflow their banks in mud-brown.

In the grainlands the water does not want to drain away anymore. In caved-in shafts, many perish in the mines. In a mourning-song comes the chorus, the lamentation of sorrow in bitter pain. The vigilant brain decides it is safer to disappear. But the idiot and the swine decide, in the wilderness they make a little wine out of veld-fruit.

Joyfully the swine calls: Oh, it smells just as nice as Jasmin. But the smart-ass complains: Woe oh woe, our efforts taste as bitter as aloe. But together they stay unanimously in one shelter, which is not too spacious. In bitter cold they lie curled together in order not to freeze. So, in the great oppression, good and bad, weak and strong, share each other’s pain. The password is: Let the last bit of sunshine, in this terrible time, shine on the heads of us both.