Neither a weapon in hand,
Nor an armour on body.
Not a dropp of blood,
But a furious battle.
A battle deep within,
A battle of mind and conscience.
He, the Maker, stood in silence,
Watching who would win?
The victory would decide,
His will on human,
To live in wilderness of the dark,
Or in abode of divine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
you are indeed a very deep person...i like what i read...nalini