They, the great- great- great-grand children
Of those who paid unwarranted debts
With flesh and blood, and let last breath out
Seeking justice, for motherland's sake
Bones of whom are lying buried within divine soil
Queued up from morn till dusk
In hot sun, enduring thirst, hunger and anxiety
To touch smell, feel and visualize
What and how it looked like then
And put the last pinch of soil to the grave of
The imperialist dungeon eyesore, sans posterity value,
Where national heroes were caged in, tortured and hanged
Ere it is buried and erased off from history, for eternity
Whilst only a handful officials were partaking in the
Commissioning of the most modern millennium's prison
To the nation, post independence
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You have an impeccable capability of composing such poems. No doubt!
Thank you Dilhara for the comment.