The air wages war against man,
All retreat into their homes
Like a snail responding to touch,
All but the front line of red crosses.
They hold torches, leading the marathon,
All races, to the hidden tape.
The enemy's colonies are multiplying,
Yet they raise their shields and spears.
They sleep on their feet,
In search of the correct formula.
Hold on, lungs under water, just a bit more,
Don't inhale. Your heroes have dived.
Maybe they can't fly,
But they deserve capes.
In them is the respiration of the globe,
The victory of the nations
Against alien invasion.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem