May we find a use for this centennial cry
For the times pass us by
And our tears won't bring the end
To this grievous and gory trend
May our thoughts find themselves
And make a tool of fine helves
To delve our matters with care
Not minding the pains we must bear
For we have not gotten to the place
And we must steer this phase
To the end of wasteful years
Where hearty smiles wipe all tears
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem