He made the colours.
Epitomised by the rainbows;
so colourful and lovely.
But black and white You seperated,
calling the black darkness;
...calling the white light.
Then discrimination sets in.
Aparthy becomes the wife,
And xenophobia the hubby.
Or art thou the Creator erred?
Wealth and poverty He concocted.
Bourgeois and the proletariat we have,
Two extreme class of hate.
Separation rains ceaselessly.
Oppression and suppression persist.
All-day grousing we experience.
Creator, art thou erred?
Creator, thou art one!
But beings are dual;
But religion is plentiful;
But doctrines are like beach bay sands and incomprehensible;
Teachings are a dilemma;
Confusion everywhere
Killings in thy name?
Creator, have you erred?
Creator, acknowledge my pertinacity.
Tell where I shall tilt, thou creator,
as I lay my transient body to rest
...to rest and come back the 'moro in my trance hypothetical.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem