History is often written by the victor,
a web of deceit woven by the writer
to glorify the deeds of his master
and decry the works of the loser:
His name is vilified,
his good deeds set aside,
his just cause demonised;
only the victor is glorified
History is father and mother of lies,
fabrications the writer relays,
leaving us an account after his demise;
a legacy that hopefully fools and survives
The passage of time seems to add to its credibility,
self-interest confers upon it the seal of authenticity,
It is then paraded as the voice of truth and sanity.
But we all know it is mostly hot air and vanity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem