Our days and nights are brown and green
The sky brown and green
Landscape brown and green
The bay also brown and green roars restlessly
And throughout everything flows a red fluid
Our Savior holds secret daggers in hands—
Our dreams deceived, in soil depth
Still the day, Countless fresh skeletons
of our own people—
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Our Savior holds secret daggers in hands— Our dreams deceived, in soil depth Still the day, Countless fresh skeletons of our own people— Really painful to feel this way. Thanks for the sharing of the lovely poem. 10+ for it. Subhas