On the screen,
I saw famine stricken lands
And a girl dying –
Not from food famine
But from family famine:
No family member was there
To open the door…
And then on the screen,
I saw war-stricken lands
And the boy soldier dying
Not from gun shot wounds
But from wounds of a heart
That would not part with a father
Whose grave was too raw…
Yet still on the screen,
The great killer breeze, in one clinched call,
Sent thousands to hell:
For being too slow,
Too slow for the heavenly chariot;
And they managed to pray,
“God, why do you forsake...”
And we all sat there,
Double-breasted,
With snobbish teeth and tears,
And the question,
“who would go for us? ”
Was received with enthusiasm,
‘The Seventh World Saviours! ’
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem