As I can no longer worship In glass houses
When I can no longer use the earth
Where can I now call my hearth
Since death through suffering is earth
The silence of the thunderstorm
Is yet the kind of explosion;
That slaughtering silent of thunder
Remain of hope and freedom.
Least tomorrow become oblivion
Where thunderstorm and rainfall threatened
In incessant lives of innocence
Let us not let the earth be the earth
Because they came a million miles.
If the eyes and ears is closed and lost
The way of these thunder is the action,
Sand and blood for life and peace I need.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem