</>The Problem in our hand
Is nothing compare to our past
When gods claimed the virgin's heads
The first child as our sacrificial lamb
Law and Order in the King's hand
Who to challenge the unfair order of our king
unless you wish to let your head rust in the shrine
Gone are those time,
Nobody believed we could come this mile
Who knows we could spread this wide
no Love in our way of life
Hatred Stick to us like our hand-bags
our happiness lies in the sadness of our weak pals
And our strongness brag only on our home wives
Not let dwell in shame
It may hinder us having our gains
of what we've sowed in the rains
And all we wish for in future by faith.
Our Past is still our past
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem