blood painted the walls, agony
smell like fragrance of pain,
nobody knows where to go and
hide a little snow
head board of fire hears and thunder
of power smoke like rain
in the midst, walks of hope and answer prayer
feed for a day, while
nothing left than an empty hand
in a bucket of misery
look our tears wet the sands and our joy
languish in the shore, all have
come down to pieces
even the milk surge the
lips to our innocence, the rest become the
hour of mercy
... have mercy on us capture heart in fire
'a poem dedicated to war torn area of the Far East Asia'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem