There is truth, like an ax,
When a piece cuts a dispute,
Words breaking chips,
From lying and flattery separating.
It's true, like fire,
When there is a curse of stink,
And the languages of rotting burning,
Clear this world, wishing.
It's true, like a sword.
And you can not save your head,
Who is openly,
What you do not remember and forgotten.
It's true, like waves,
When the ambitions are complete,
She carries away on the rocks.
Greatness there will be small.
It happens, it is true that the thunder will come
And it will be terrible,
That will allow the lie to settle,
Under the guise of hiding the face.
There is a truth. But still there are people,
Similar manners to the judges.
They really are not the law and not the lesson,
On all the answers prepared for future use.
The soul is clogged with a steel plate
And in the heart the door is closed.
As they say at times among the people,
About the existing breed:
They exiled in the eyes,
All of God's dew.
Shamelessly covering the truth
And rejoicing when dogs bark,
They will replace the word with lies, flattery,
In the crowd hiding from dishonor,
From the truth. Remaining as judges of people,
Although in the soul of the villain
And the truth does not give them peace.
And that's when between disputes and verbal fights,
I hear loud barking dogs,
In the soul it becomes brighter and the heart is sweet:
To know, the truth somewhere again spoke.
"REFLECTIONS" Grandpa Go