In a world of twisted smiles,
many thousands kill the dream.
They would sink the tiny isles,
of this world that we've kept clean.
They would laugh and watch it burn.
They would wage a war on mirth.
When they've gone and had their turn,
they'd destroy this good green Earth.
Oh, but the few.
You who'd stand up for the truth.
You who would not fight their wars.
You who would not take their proof.
Live your lives with no remorse.
For you are a dying breed,
and this world will soon recede.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem