Sampson

You are the son of my sorrow! !
So, tomorrow i will borrow to satisfy your muse;
For, the arrows of hatred are now aiming at me.

A drink offering,
A pillar of stone,
With the fruitfulness of the laws on my affliction;
But, my love is now buried under this great tree.

Oh Sampson! !
To live in love, peace and unity;
But, you are the son of my sorrow,
And now, i have to borrow to satisfy you tomorrow.