Oh! spirit, this way to paradise
thy illustroius life, like a game of dice.
hundreds died for thy lust of blood
hearts shatteres for thy flag they beheld.
Now they not pray for days of rain,
nor they pray for the sun to shine.
sour truth, the black clouds of despair
as they inhale the smoky charred air.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem