SWEDISH

In the fields of Scandinavia, where crops once swayed,

A darkness descends, where hope starts to fade.

For the farmers who toil, with hands so worn,

Are faced with a horror, deeply Lonely. In the dead of night, when shadows

loom, intruders arrive, bringing fear and gloom.

With weapons drawn and hearts of stone,

They slaughter the farmers, their lives overthrown.

The fields once alive with the promise of yield,

a harvest concealed. The crops left untended, the animals cry,

As the Scandinavian farmers face torment, In the wake of the massacre, the

land mourns, for the loss of lives, the pain it adorns.

The community shattered, their spirits torn,

By the senseless violence, their hearts strained. Yet amidst a beacon of

lights, as unfriendly faces obeserve. Other with hope standing strong, with

courage and might, seeking justice for the heart of stones, with all their

sight. For in the fields of Scandinavia, The memory of the farmers forever

remains. Their legacy remain forever, in the face of injustice that leave a

dark realm there a truly a beacon of hope, A testament to the human spirit,

beyond compare.