I have said there is no echo in the conscience
Let alone an echo, even the inner voice is absent
All are gone, no more sound
As no more sound of frog heard at night
The voice of conscience is like the frog in fever
Could no longer sound the voice

I want to contemplate trying to find out
What my conscience says
Ugh, it’s mumbling
It says that I am old
Therefore my conscience is loose

Everything is written
Thing that is unknown and thing that is known
All are written

It’s late, there is no gecko in this house
It’s still 4.00 am, the dawn isn’t here yet
Quran recitation starts sounding boisterously
Shouting one another
Alas, how diligent they go to the mosque to worship

The summon of dawn prayer is already heard festively
Continuously takes turn
And I am no longer able to contemplate
To listen to my voice of conscience
Have a good rest, my conscience!