Blood and bones of fifty bodies,
Laid mixed and mingled,
Legs here arms there
Of men: young and old,
Shreds scattered all around,
Skulls laid asunder
As if melons on the farm,
Over-ripe and flattened,
The stems lay with ragged bellies
And with no extremities,
Brains splattered on the walls,
Red-essence splashed
As if a skilled artist sketched,
A piece of abstract images.
Yesterday indiscriminate scrap
Of human bodies was consigned
To the collective grave.
Mr. America has planned today,
For peace and prosperity,
And well-being of humanity,
To launch more Drone Attacks,
On troubled pole of the world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very very touching poem. you have painted a perfect image.