The bitter man has long since left
his homeland and his hope
But drags the bitter stench of hate
as surely as a gallows’s rope
Throwing pebbles from afar,
he breaks the skin of settling ponds,
continuing the calmlessness
from then till now and still beyond
The bitter man knows not of hope
Says, hope’s not his to give.
The bitter man will bitter stay
till he learns to forgive
For every wrong that left its mark
he sings of tears, in each refrain.
Selective memory glorifies
the evils spawned, again and again.
What use, the Freedom fighter,
once hostility has stopped?
The bitter man waits in the wings.
He cannot let it drop.
The bitter man has split the dyke
that stemmed the bile from you and me
Now pouring cross unwilling seas
disguised, enwrapped in poetry.
The children read and think to praise
his eloquence, his bard-like sheen.
The bitter man will fan the flames
and douse the fire with gasoline.
The bitter man has many creeds
He comes not from one single culture.
So take care whom you welcome there.
This bitter man. Poetic vulture.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem