The hero or the valiant
who rules the parliament?
everyone has a point
even at the war front
diffrences from our past
before our eyes or impact
we all need a pound of flesh
seiving our pains in a mesh
'revenge' we bid our child
but who takes the chide
we sing it in our songs
typed it to our tongues
even in our fun
a sudden pain reborn
the whites grow pikes
the blacks glow knives
our missionaries u slained
our brothers you slaved
archive of many stains
yes we bulge our hearts
But, who takes the chide
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem